Wild Ramblings (M looking for F for romance, or any for antics)

[Wilderness Soul]

Hey all, thanks for stopping by to read this!

So very much like my On/Off Thread just gonna run with it and see what I can figure out. If something in this thread appeals to you, send me a PM please do not post in this thread. Would like to keep this thread streamlined if at all possible.


All full up on stories, but that could change so feel free to read on anyway!


The Intro

    1: First off, I am a straight male who has been RPing since 2007, and I write and act in RL. While I can play female character well, I am not the best at writing romance with them so if you want to try that we'll need to brainstorm and practice some patience. I also don't do same sex couples well at least not romantically I can bluff my way through FxF though. If you're good with our two guys or two gals being friends, siblings, etc and doing a story together that way and pursuing other romances in said story that could be very fun. Your real life sexual/gender identity doesn't matter to me just as long as our chars click.

   2: What I expect from partners is creativity and activity as well as patience. I also value literacy among my writing partners. Not a hard core grammar or punctuation cop, in fact those are issues I am working to fix as well. But if your posts look like run-on sentences that take up huge paragraphs I will say some things to the nature of "please gotta fix that".

    3: I range from 1 paragraphs posts to many depending on the situation and story as such that is what I expect from partners.

    4: I post as often as I can, at least once a week, but usually multiple times a day/week. The weekends are actually more busy for me than some so activity then will be iffy. If things are going slow for you feel free to PM me with fair warning. My day job is still kicking my butt so activity will be even more iffy, but still aiming for at least once a week.
   
    5: I prefer to RP in threads, but will be willing to do PM if I could be convinced. I also am willing to RP via IM though they won't be my first choice. Also willing to try through Gdocs once again if I could be convinced.
   
    6: I write primarily in the 3rd person, but I sometimes have issues with keeping my tenses straight so feel free to politely point them out to me as I am trying to fix that bad habit. I can do 1st person, but the story will change a bit and might look more clunky.
   
    7: I communicate very often with partners, be it plotting, brainstorming or just chatting.


And for a special treat here's my persona in character form. This character is very near and dear to my heart and in all honestly this is basically me in story form. As such if anyone wishes to make a story with him there will really need be communication and convincing. But he is open to being used in stories. :D

IN USE

The King of the Pumpkin Patch

Name: Anam Fàsach, though only he knows that name most simply call him the King of the Pumpkin Patch.
Age: Ageless
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description): Though his appearance changes as it needs to, the below are what could be called his most used appearances.

Pumpkin King Form

This is his most used appearance. A tall, stocky figure with a glowing Jack'O'Lantern head dressed in a long black coat, black boots, and what looks like modern black body armor. Most modern appearance and the least frightening of his three main forms.

Rambler Form

Mostly used when wandering the world when he needs to blend in among humans and other races who might not appreciate The Grim or Pumpkin King appearances. Scarecrows can pop up in anything that looks like a field and be ignored. Shorter, but wider than the King form and appears to be made of wood for lightness and ease of travel over long distances. The lanterns burn with a fire that never goes out.

Grim Form

Often called the Grim Grinner this is his most frightful form. Being an avatar of death at the core of his nature this form is arguably his "true" form. Extremely tall and very thin clad once more in all black, but adorned with discolored rages and bones that hang about him like totems. The oddity of this form lies in either his inability or unwillingness to speak while in it.

It add further credence that this is his true form as his true voice is that of death itself any who hear it drop dead instantly.

Human Form

As more and more of the mythical world is forgotten, Anam has chosen a human form when he has need of it. 5'8 and weighing a muscular 190 lbs. This form is a Caucasian male in either his mid-twenties or early thirties with a small mustache and a head of short brown hair, usually dressed as above a mixture of leather and chainmail stretched over a stout body of hard muscle.

Race: Eternal
Job: Guardian of the lost and frightened.

Racial Skills and Abilities: Anam's powers are tied to his lantern/scythe and the flame inside of it changes colors with whatever power he is using.

Shapeshifting(Green Flame): His most used skill, once it's activated he can morph himself into any shape in nature he was seen. But can only mimic living organisms.

Fire(White Flame): His most basic, but also most powerful ability. Used to dispatch evil entities and purge the area around it. The fire seems to be hot enough to melt even bone and metal to ash, but unless you are right in the flame you feel no heat or pain.

Illusion(Blue Flame): Rarely used, but always effective. Once this ability is activated he can trick the senses of anyone he is targeting. Used mostly to try and scare his opponent's away before the fight even starts or used to intimidate a creature that is threatening an innocent.

Strength(Red Flame): Another basic spell though often used in combination with the other powers to augment them as the Red Flame strengthens not only his physical strength, but also the power of his mana and spells.

Invisibility(Purple Flame): Used primarily to make his long distance travels easier without the need for altering forms very often. Invisibility also covers the other markers of his existence right down to smell and the noise his footsteps make.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Storyteller: Being immortal can be quiet boring so when he has the time he likes to gather whatever stories he can find and often revels in retelling them to a new audience.

Polearm master: What is his pole with an unbreakable metal lantern swinging from an enclosed hook if not a polearm like weapons. This skill is maximized when he shifts it to his grim scythe, but is also masterful with any polearm weapon he picks up.

Precognition: The way he finds trouble to deal with. Blessed by mother nature to see the danger before it comes. Able to plan his wanderings so he hits every scene of trouble oftentimes before it even happens.

Teleportation: The only way to travel for an Immortal Scarecrow Guardian. Though the skill isn't an exact ability he can usually land within a few meters of his destination.

Moon's eye: Anam is linked to the moon above even on nights where it cannot be seen. And he can use it's huge unblinking eye to watch the world around him in real time. No one is sure if this is it's own skill or simply an extension of Precognition, but he often uses the two in concert with each other.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons): He carries a glowing lantern on a long pole. The Lantern changes colors with whatever power he is using. The lantern changes to a reaper's scythe in Grim form, but still glows with the internal fire.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): None

Equipment: None

Personality: Anam is a quiet and reserved creature. Though capable of laughter and joy he was long carried the burden of his duty upon eons weary shoulders. He is a protector through and through, but with such powers that he has comes the downside of immortality. He is cursed with never being able to find meaning beyond his station or settle down with a loved on.

When seen out in the world the viewer can easily see by the sag of his shoulders and heavy sighing of his chest that he is resigned to his fate only barely keeping a coal of love and affection burning in his heart holding out against hope for an end to his lonely vigil or at the very least someone to be lonely with.

Likes: The Fall, the moon, the stars, his pumpkin patch, and protecting people.

Dislikes: People who hurt the innocent, his eternal loneliness, and animals that try to eat the gourds in his pumpkin patch.

Background: Anam Fàsach, created by nature for this purpose and this purpose alone. He has no childhood, no fond memories of when he might've been human to keep him occupied through the many years of his occupation as the Autumnal Guardian. One of the many spirits and entities that predate the modern world and have seen the rise and falls of countless species and people. The people of the Primeval Arcana, the fall of the dinosaurs, the rise of the golden guardians, their fall to the silver savages and their eventual fall to the humans of Atlantis then the Atlantians earning the ire of the gods above were forced underground to become the strange and glowing Inkkin. The rise of both primitive and modern man and the great many falls they have endured during their very short time on the mortal plane.

He and the other Eternals have always watched the comings and goings of mortals. As personifications of nature the Eternals have only ever known the life of immortality and power. But Mother Nature has lain all kinds of barriers throughout the natural world trying to keep the Immortals from enslaving the mortals as other immortals were want to do. They were tasked as protectors along side the likes of Drago's Children and the many factions of humans set on protecting their species...more times than not from themselves. For Anam and his kin though they were content to let the Youngers police themselves as a whole focusing instead upon protecting a sphere of their choosing and for the Pumpkin King he chose protecting those lost in the forests and wild lands from the things that go bump in the night.

Eons passed with him doing his duty to the fullest of his abilities and aside from a few times during the many wars of the mortal realm, he rarely thought of anything else. But even Guardians like him feel the weight of time if enough of it begins piling up and Anam had a tremendous number of years sitting heavily on his shoulders. Soon he began warring with himself, his sense of duty fighting with his weariness of the world and it's hoplessness. Neither losing ground, but neither gaining it either. He often picture it like two opposing armies being unable to maneuver around the other so they remained evenly matched on the plane of his tormented mind. But without Mother Nature releasing him from his bond herself there is nothing he could do. He wanders freely about the world protecting and reflecting. Never needing to rest, eat, or drink, nothing but the road beneath his feet and the endless blanket of night above him.

Other: Being a naturally thoughtful and morose creature he often comes up with poems or stories to amuse the madness within his head and gain a small piece of quiet from the constantly warring voices in his head. And this is one poem he repeats, especially when out hunting down evil.

Through blind eyes I watch you.
With a still mouth I curse you to your grave.
With stiff arms and legs I follow you across the land.
With no sorrow or guilt I rip away all you desire.
I am there haunting your every thought and feeling.
Wherever you go look behind for that's where I will always be.
I am the Bogeyman in your nightmares.
I am the Guardian of the Night...the King of the Pumpkin Patch...I am here to take away the fears of all you threaten.

The Lines

I have prided myself for years on being able to pick up and make a story in nearly every genre. From Anime/Manga to Zombie survival. Given enough of a seed idea and/or a base character idea. I can come up with something for nearly everything. But as with everyone else I have genres I am best at they are as followed. I am also adding the general character skeleton I created years ago and have been using to make new characters ever since. Anyone who sees it is free to use it especially if we're doing a story together and you wish to make a sheet like the one I'll likely be making lol.

General char skeleton

Name:
Age:
Gender:

Appearance(pic and description):


Race:
Job:

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Armor(one sensible suit of armor):

Equipment:

Augs(Limit of 3):

Personality:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Background:

Other:

Action(and nearly all subgenres under it)

Adventure(and nearly all subgenres under it)

Fantasy(and nearly all subgenres under it).

Sci-Fi(and most of it's non-canon source subgenres).

Post apocalyptic.

General fiction.

Modern(and most combinations of it).

General futuristic.

Gunslinger/Western.

Martial Arts/Eastern.

Comedy.

Romance

Mild gore and most levels of non sexual violence I'm fine with.

Parody and fanfiction though I only have good knowledge of some canons (those are marked in green).  All of these will be OCs interacting within the world rather than established characters in canon.
~ Elder Scrolls
~ Fallout
~ Cyberpunk 2077
~ The Witcher
~ Zootopia
~ Beastars
~ Dragon Age
~ Lord of the Rings
~ Pokemon
~ The Dresden Files
~ The Redwall Series
~ The Mass Effect Trilogy
~ Borderlands 1,2, and 3

I am somewhat vanilla when it comes to kinks. While I am all for writing smut in a story, I prefer a good ratio between the two say from 50/50 to like 70 plot/30smut.

As said before if there is going to be romance and smut between the mains it'll need to be MxF, but secondary characters or non romantic mains can play how they want.

I'm fine with all kinds of races in stories and characters even most anthros and furries I even have stories for Scalies, Featheries and such as well.

There's more of course, but don't want to copy and paste my whole O/O here.

Stories and Ideas

I don't always have fresh ideas off the top of my head, but here I'll toss up story ideas as they come to me. Some old ones, some simple thoughts, maybe even a few random inspirations.

Ravings

Stories or ideas I'm looking for.

Tamriel Adventure: Dusted off my copy of Skyrim today and had a fun idea. Two adventurers, possibly one of them being a Hireling or Housecarl. Out in the chilly and wooly wilds of the Tamriel and possibly lands beyond. MXF pairing and likely a long term RP, not much planned beyond playing the games through the written word and adding our own spins to things. Open to all kinds of pairings and races that call the Elder Scrolls games home.


Up from the gutter: A classic tale of fighting up from obscurity with the help of a friend/mentor/lover only to learn the fight to the top if full of pitfalls, betrayals, side missions, and accident just waiting to happen


Scenario: Everyone starts at the bottom of the ladder in this city. Most don't get more than a rung or two higher their whole life before something or someone kills them. But for the rare few with the fire, instinct, and quick trigger finger riches and glory await you. Now you can hit the ground running scraping up whatever shitty little scav hunt or step and fetch missions a fixer will throw your way and grind up the road to becoming a legend...or using some tact and possibly a few messy favors you can join a crew and find yourself a mentor. Working up that ladder is a helluva lot easier when you got four other people grabbing the rungs to pull you up with them.

Just remember the one less in Night City people always seem to forget. Trust no one because everyone's on the game and you never know who'll be happy to shoot you in the back and take your spot on the ladder.

Nuance: Like I said pretty classic tale, I can play either the mentor or the new kid will just need to make a new sheet for the kid spot. And am looking for a partner to play opposite that be it the mentor themselves or the scrappy underdog looking to the big bad Wolf(my cyberpunk guy) to teach them a thing or two. Now it doesn't need to be a female lead opposite my male, but if you want a nice heavy romance with some wild sexy times a female will be needed. But could easily be two guys going against the world Jackie and V style. All life paths, skillset, and builds will be welcome to this one.

Repurposed

Here is where I'll put some old ideas from other RPing sites. Most will be repurposed group ideas, but they can be switched to 1x1s with some work.

Voyage of the Storm Breaker (Elder Scrolls fandom story, romance and smut potential)

On the orders of the High King, a stalwart sea captain and a varied crew of explorers are tasked with creating an up to date map of Tamriel and the surrounding lands. Throughout the story lost races in unknown lands and untold treasures will be found!

Black Star Privateers (Far future Sci-Fi Space pirates, romance and smut potential)

Far in the future in a far flung quadrant of space the wild frontier takes on a whole new meaning. Between the Galactic Alliance, The Confederation, and numerous ambitious conquering races it's hard to make an honest living. That's why most become pirates or in this case a Privateer. Aliens, cyborgs, robots, and humans toeing the line between mercenary, smuggler, and explorer. Doing jobs set up by mysterious benefactors for massive pay out even if it means death in the cold freezing vacuum of space.

The Heartland Saga/Tales from Eisignol(Brutal grim dark, high fantasy, romance and smut potential)

Born from the massive fantasy world I created a while back. Full on magic, adventure, and nineteen customized fantasy races. This idea started out as a brutal iron age fantasy story where four races race to recover some ancient artifact before some primeval villains use it to destroy the world, but can go in any number of directions.

Age of the Dragon Lords(Crossover high fantasy, high romance and normal smut potential)

An elegantly mad idea I had a few years back. Combining the worlds of the Lord of the Rings and the Dragon Age games. Where we play Wardens or Defenders of Endor comprising of Humans, Elves, Dwarves, on both sides as well as Qunari joining the fight with the Wardens and Hobbits for the Defenders.

Scenario: All will embark on an epic quest spanning thousands of miles and hundreds of battles. Shortly after the end of the Fifth Blight, but before the events of Dragon Age 2 the Wardens have rebuilt themselves into something akin to their former glory. Headquartered at Vigil's Keep in Amaranthine they have become a powerful force both politically and militarily. While toeing the line between remaining neutral and reminding the world they do not stop existing once a Blight has ended they have maintained a peace not known in their lands for many centuries, but for every blessing there is a curse. While Thedas has been free of Darkspawn for the better part of four years, a land far beyond all the maps of their world. A world called Endor has been facing a foe unknown to even their oldest records, called only the Wrong for how twisted and unnatural they appear.

Endor has been torn by countless wars in the past, but this new war came so suddenly and without respite that many of the Free Races were nearly wiped out in the first wave. But with grit and keen blades they fought back against extinction and have been holding out for those four years, but they have been fighting an uphill fight and soon they will run out of feet to storm that hill. In desperation, the few remaining Elves have taken to the sea in hopes of finding aid...any aid. What they find is a land of strangers...but strangers that look exactly like them. The wonders shock the sea-faring Elves, but they do not forget their mission. They ask after the creatures learning their true names to be Darkspawn and the warriors best suited to fight them...the ancient order of the Grey Wardens. Seeking these specialized warriors proves to be the easiest part of this arduous mission. There is a culture shock when the two sides meet, but once the talk of Endor experiencing a Blight complete with it's own Archdemon crosses the table their differences are forgotten. The Warden Commander commits his best warriors to the cause and within a day the voyage is underway and the Wardens whom have never known the full fury of the Darkspawn join the Defenders of Endor to stop their first and hopefully only Blight.

The Time Blades(High powered multi genre story,now a group RP still looking for players, high romance and normal smut potential)

I am a journeyman of Time and a vanguard of balance.
Blessed by the Father of Time and Space, I will use my gifts to be a defender of the world from the chaos of imbalance.
I am a seeker of balance not only in my duty but also in myself.
My body will stay strong, but my mind and spirit will stay stronger.
This is my profession and my destiny.
I am a keeper of this oath and will always hold it in my heart.
I will never forget that I am only a watchman, keeping the world in balance and I must never let my personal beliefs impede my duty.
I am a respectful follower of the Chronos and their teachings.
Despite the evil I may witness I swear to never abuse this gift and change the current of time for my personal gain or alter it to fit my ideals.
I am a Time Blade and this is my binding oath.

The Binding Oath of every Time Blade.

Plot: The Time Blades, an ancient and secret group of Chronomancers or controllers of Time. They're followers of Idan the god of Time and Space, their job is to keep the balance of space and time perfectly level. They go back in time and stop some events but they also trigger others or change them in some acute way to keep this balance. One placed in such a place of power must be of indomitable and pure will to not abuse it but, as nature has shown us time and again absolute power corrupts absolutely or in this case misleads absolutely.
The Blades have to hunt down one of their own who hopes to alter the Time Stream so good triumphs ultimately in this world eliminating all bad but as ideal as this sounds it cannot be, good needs bad to survive.

And the Time Blades must keep the balance even if that means killing this idealist and preventing a world where war is a thing of fiction and peace reins eternal. This disaster takes place in the most important room of the base, the Time Sanctum. It houses the Time Stones, the mystical green glass stones that grant the Blades their ability to travel backwards and forwards in time. It's heavily guarded and controlled, but even these measures failed when one of the very guards that protect the stones forgot their oath and jumped into the portal to begin their one person war on evil.

Destiny's Deck(high fantasy modern day OG idea, high romance and normal smut potential)

A very old idea of mine based around the idea of Tarot Cards, while not exactly Tarot at the same time. And while it was originally written to be a group RP it could be a very fun and very long running RP as our characters go about collecting the other cards.


Plot:Everyone loves a carnival, the food, the rides, the games of chance, and of course the novel experience of letting an old woman "predict" your future of love and money. But she doesn't use the usual Tarot cards or the usual methods. She simply stares hard into your eyes as if she's stripping away the skin and muscle and burning a hole into your very soul. After a few minutes of a stark naked feeling she reaches into her deck and pulls out a unique looking card. As she places it in your hand you feel the strangest sensation of familiarity to the card and the picture on it's face.

Brushing the feeling off you put the card away and continue on your way enjoying the festivities. As the night continues on the feeling of familiarity grows stronger and you feel like the warm night air is smothering you and sapping your energy, just as you seem to reach the limit of your tolerance for the feeling, a huge explosion rumbles the fair grounds and a living hell begins swallowing up the rides and vendors. Chaos and panic ensues and you run for your life all else becomes a blur as you take refuge in the old fortune teller's trailer that seemed unphased by the voracious carnage. As you enter it you notice it's far bigger than it looked and you aren't the only one here. Despite all your differences you feel like these people are family. Now if things couldn't get any more confusing the old woman appears before you just as weathered and crooked as you remember, but in a flash she changes into a tall queenly woman with an otherworldly beauty. Before you can voice your disbelief she speaks and you freeze, rooted to the floor of the Trailer.
"I am Destiny and you have been chosen to save your world from the Warlord. The cards you have are your key to great power, master them and keep them close always. The Warlord will have agents with similar powers after you. Kill them and take their card, master these new cards and become the stuff of legend. Now hold on tight, we're going for a little ride." She snaps her fingers and the trailer vanishes from the destroyed Fair Grounds beginning your journey towards saving the world.


Extras: We will be playing the good guys or maybe Dark Agent if the idea strikes your fancy. Despite the gender of the character on your card you can be whatever gender you want. But we start out as normal humans, as the RP progresses we will fight Dark Agents and be able to take their cards utilizing the power within them. Each new card will have it's own set of Passive and Active Abilities, but we can only use the active powers of one card at a time, the passive abilities will be going at all times but lessen with the more cards we have.

Most of the fighting will be between the players and non-card carrying monsters. The card carrying Dark Agents will be like boss battles.

Cards: We will be given a strange card by a strange woman in a strange trailer. The cards hold a power neither of us has ever known. These Cards are Magic and give us a very handy set of powers, we must master the card and capture them from the Dark Agents. There will be 27  choices so lots of options. I am open to hearing new card ideas for this and when the proper time comes we can work them out and make them real.

The powers can be turned off by touching the back center of our cards or if we get damaged enough it'll happen automatically. When we transform we don't have to use the image on the card for our transformed looks, but it must look similar to the card. I have fully written specs for each card, but will just post the names here to be picked and asked about then show the full specs once a choice is picked.

Vampire, Beastlord, Golem, Salamander, Leviathan, Roc, Sun, Moon, Warrior, Mage, Rogue, Reaper, Shaman, Automaton, Storm, Judge, Joker, Time Keeper, Alchemist, Loremaster, Artisan, Guard, Acrobat, Recluse, Seeker, Bard, Sprite.


Nuance: I have around 10 Dark Agent cards to pick from, but they'll be our baddies unless you wish to ask about them then we'll have a nice unlikely lovers uniting to bring down a bigger bad story on our hands which can be loads of fun itself. But we start with one card each and build around them could add more powers, take away powers, change appearances of the cards etc so hit me up in PM and lets see what we can come up with!

Full Moon Circus(fantasy OG idea, high romance and normal smut potential)

I have always loved circus and full moons, so this seemed like a great way to combine them some years back, lets see who likes this idea!

Story: Wonders and mystery await those that find themselves under the big top of the Luna's Dance Circus. The swift Acrobats, the dazzling   Fire Dancers each act is built to amaze and astound the paying audience.  Each day they bring in a full house and no one leaves unhappy, but if you ask anyone that leaves that tent they'll tell you everything isn't  as it seems.

Once a month when the moon is bright and highest in the sky the run of  the mill circus becomes something truly unbelievable....it becomes the Full Moon Circus. Sights and sounds known only in movies and books jump  out of the land of shadows and dreams and into our world. Blessed with  supernatural powers the acts bend the laws of the reality as we know  them. Strongmen breaking steel girders over their knees, Beast Tamers  becoming the beasts they tame, Jugglers tossing around real balls of  fire and light. This one night the performers know no bounds anything  can be done and more times than not it is done.

But as always there are critics, religious nuts saying the circus is evil and unnatural, zealots ranting about imagined injuries gained by a   wayward wild animal attacking them. Even with these psychos beating down  the doors of the Circus no violence has ever gotten through, but a new group of people known as Enders are slowly pushing past this barrier and encroaching on the Circus Folks' safety even when the full  moon isn't  out, the Ringmasters aren't worried but they also aren't happy. They can't act until violence is actually done so they must  wait, hope, and  pray. Join us and find out how the big top survives.

Extras: In this RP we will play circus performers that while supernatural beings all years round get to drop their disguises and run free for one night a month, the full moon. A Beast Tamer can shapeshift into animals or is a Werebeast, Strongperson can bend steel and so on. The amount of acts and performers will depend on the  interest and powers while they must be related to our act are up to us for the most part.

Acts: A basic list, but can always think of more depending on the time frame and magic/tech levels.

Ringmaster, Strongman/woman, Beast Trainer, Juggler, Physical Performer(ie sword swallowing, knife thrower), Acrobat/Gymnast, Clown, Daredevil, Dancer, Magician, Musician.


Nuance: This idea can have any number of pairings and interactions, all characters would be some kind of supernatual being, but will also be always hiding to avoid people who might wish them harm harming them so could play with that tension and anxiety too pushing our chars to each other for comfort.

Ruminations 1

Here will be ideas that weren't RPs in the past, but stories I've written or other inspirations.

Beastars/Mature Zootopia(Grim dark furry urban noir, high furry romance and smut potential

Closer to Beastars than Zootopia in content, but aside from a few place and NPC names from Zootopia and some contextual ideas from Beastars has little to do with either as a whole. Anything is possible in such a world and will be looking forward to whatever ideas we can come up with!

Post-Apocalyptic Hotel(general post apocy story that could be from any setting, romance and smut potential)

A general idea born in my playing of Fallout New Vegas's Dead Money DLC. But could be altered to fit a lot of world ended ideas. In this one two people are trapped in a super fancy hotel/casino. The bombs dropped, zombies came to live, Rapture came a calling...whatever fits. But the story would be a slow burning survival story where the two people learn to adapt, overcome, and possibly escape the locked down hotel.

St. Lorelei's Academy(shameless harem story, high romance and normal smut potential)

A story inspired by Rosario + Vampire, but takes place in a world made by me with Dragons and such. Could be fun to play multiple chars in.

Dragon Age antics(Fandom funtime, romance and smut potential)

Two Wardens or two other chars from the Dragon Age lore out and about in the wilds of Ferelden or the likes for adventure and enemy mashing.

Classic Fantasy Romp(Any fantasy setting anytime, romance and smut potential)

As basic an idea as could be. The tried and true fantasy adventure where two young and hapless explorers get themselves some old armor and secondhand swords then take off for whatever fortune and glory their wanderlust brings them. But as they soon find out it's not like their storybooks. It's rough, hard, and stinks vaguely of urine, but they can't go back home until they've made it.

Now from there it can start and go anywhere. MC is a wannabe young knight full of piss and vinegar, YC is a studious but distracted young Witch leaving her coven for the first time to find a mate? Boom we can make it work.

Or MC and YC were childhood friends and royals set to be wed? But continued tension between their parents kingdoms resulted in them being ripped apart and forced to grow up and run away before everything is burned down only to find each other years later under their fake names and pick up that vague childish bond they both knew and loved? Can totally happen. In use

Open to all kinds of ideas for this one.

Fight Club(Grim dark, dystopian, modern day dark, prime setting for all things gritty, romance and smut potential)

Like many kids of the late 90s early 2000s I really liked the movie Fight Club. The blood, the sweat, the light-hearted destruction of corporate America XD. It played to my grunge side at the time and recently I've been thinking how interesting would that be as an RP. Or at the very least as a premise for one, down-trodden and misguided young people beating the snot out of each other in dirt filled basements and dirty parking lots in the middle of the night. Now the destruction of corporate America can be involved, but I would much rather take a little page from Jean-Claude Van Damme's movie Lionheart here and focus on the lives of just two people. Maybe both are fighters from a Men's Club and Women's Club respectively and they are simply drawn to each other with animal like lust and drag each other through the hell that is their lives outside of the ring?

Or maybe it'll be a manager and a fighter forming a taboo bond that pits them against the whole underground fighting world and they're in a race against time to bring down a powerful Crime Boss(male or female) bent on some fuckery?

Plenty more ideas could run with this.

Glory to Scotland(Historical fiction, alt-history, fantasy, wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff, high romance and normal smut potential)

I'm sure most of us have seen or heard of the movie Braveheart and some may even have deeper knowledge of Scotland's wars for independence in the late 13th century- early 14th century. For me this is one of the few historical settings I WOULD LOVE TO PLAY IN! But not as a word for word recount of history, that; while important, wouldn't be quite as much fun as doing a little alt history. Now this could be a very wide range of ideas and settings, from people in the actual day fighting and winning independence until the modern day, or maybe a time traveler or two akin to the Outlander TV series(albeit in a different time than the Jacobite Rising, although that could be fun too) Could even be a fantasy take on it where the Scots and English are simply pawns of a greater Fae conspiracy and our chars set out to bring down the Fae that has been playing fast and loose with the lives or mortals or the classic war of Vampires vs Lycans. Might even be a fit for a futuristic world with some brainstorming.

A Paladin's Waifu(comedic fantasy, dark fantasy, twisted fable, medieval slice of life or more, high smut and normal romance potential)

What would happen if a just and devout Paladin or Knight used Holy Magic to trap and bind a sexy monster girl to him via unbreakable magic chains of light? It wasn't quite his intention, more like trap her within a soul gem to be safely stored away before she destroyed the world. But he screwed up the spell and now he has his own pet monster girl permanently attached to him. Madness, antics, and shame would happen XD But maybe there's a way to free her without destroying the world. Or maybe...just maybe...they'll both find this arrangement to their liking and never wish to go back.

For the story idea itself that can go in a number of fun directions as well as the actual nature of the Monster girl being bound. Maybe she's a lust crazed succubus who only wishes to get her revenge on the knight who trapped her by sucking out his very life force?

Or maybe she's a normal monster girl simply being mistaken for some dark spewing monster?

Either way this could be either a one-shot story or fun long term one. Hit my PM box up and let's see where it goes!

General Cyberpunk(All the dystopian noir and darkness, none of the background lore or knowledge needed, romance and smut potential)

One I've been looking to do for awhile. Pretty basic idea, set in the genre of cyberpunk in general. Open to pretty much the whole idea of using the world. But don't have a set in stone story for it, but welcome to ideas.

Ruminations 2

Cowboy Bebop/Trigun(more fandom funtimes!, high romance and normal smut potential)

These are two of my favorite animes of all time and I would love to try and think of a story inspired by these two shows. Likely not copy and paste combination of them, but a lone bounty hunter in space with an augmented gunarm running from the bounty on his head. Or a group of misfits scrambling to try and claim bounties while running from the trouble they've caused. Somewhat like my BSP idea, but without the pre-made world created by me. This could be much more open to world building and mishmashing stuff from the animes.

Househusband(slice of life for any setting, time, or story build, high smut and normal romance potential)

In my many wanderings about E I have found I particularly like the idea of domestication and homelife. I know damn weird on a Kinky sex site. XD, but everyone is looking for a waifu story. So I think a husbando story could be an interesting shot to try, though the story will no doubt have dark or less wholesome theme and MC will be far from the whimsy househusband sitting on pins and needles until his woman comes home, he'll be a homebody happy to watch over the homefront rather than be on the frontlines of life.

Another version of this could be a slightly more kinky idea where MC is a servant to YC and while in public he is fully subservient to her, once they get home the table is flipped and she becomes his happy little sex slave.

Pick your own Preggers adventure(Slice of life, light BDSM, any kind of setting or time, high romance and smut potential)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EsaUIv9QPxg


This idea is based entirely on the type of Elf/ baby daddy chosen and more than likely a humor filled mad cap adventure. Could be a one shot could be something akin to two dumb fantasy kids have fun, forget protection and try to figure out what to do which could end in any number of directions. Most of the choices will be fine, but the Chaotic Evil Elf will need more work as ripping your baby daddy to bits because you're super horny will not be fun for anyone.

While set up with Elves in mind, the idea could easily apply to any number of compatible humanoid fantasy races all that is really needed is pregnancy, but could even be the lead up to that part.

Yandere vs Yandere(comedic slice of life for modern day settings mostly, high romance and smut potential)

A weird thought that occurred to me a few weeks back. If you don't know a Yandere is a "dere" trope and a term used for a person who is initially loving and caring to someone they have a strong affection for until their romantic love, admiration, and devotion becomes feisty and mentally destructive in nature through either over-protectiveness, violence, brutality or all three combined.  Now according to the Dere types wiki there are actually a few different types of Yandere most of them quite dark, but this idea will be far more comedic than most of those types.

Basically what happens when two Yanderes get together? Both boys and girls can be Yanderes and putting aside the tendencies towards violence. I think this idea with some work can be quite the fun and humorous story, like the girl Yandere is just bad at being a Yandere and fails hilariously at fighting off the boy Yandere's other love interests.

Or the boy Yandere is the self-sacrificing type of Yandere and he goes to the biggest lengths to be useful to the girl Yandere, but they live in a safe and normal world where you won't generally get killed walking out your door and don't need protecting.

Or they can be Yanderes against the world and love each other normally, but are so damn good looking other people keep trying to get with them and they fight them off Mr. and Mrs. Smith style.

Nuance: Despite the usual Yandere antics of massive amounts of gore, violence, and mental instability, I am not looking for that level of darkness with this idea. My O/Os concerning gore, vore, violence and such are still in full effect and any players looking for that type of story would do best to click past this idea. I want the wacky antics of impotently violent people falling over themselves while trying to be super serious not a recreation of Elfen Lied or something.

Explore(no clever phrases or keywords here, just being, with romance and smut potential

As much a story idea as it's very own genre of storytelling. And likely one of the main reasons I even got into writing or playing video games for the chance to explore places I never could in real life. This idea will be the most vague as it's simply a desire to do something involving exploring. Be it sci-fi, fantasy, western, or something even more slice of life urban exploring where we play two young adults bored and looking for something interesting to do on a Friday night.

If you have a similar idea or just want to build off the base idea of "Exploring" let's have some fun with it.

Smile for the Camera(grim dark, altered reality, near or far future setting, romance and smut potential)

An idea I had after watching a youtuber play a game called Captive Audience. I won't spoil anything but basically it's the movie The Truman Show mixed with The Running Man movie. It was a great story with quite the hard hitting ending that honestly you can see coming from a mile away, but still it was a heart breaker.

After I felt a small twinge of something in my cold dead heart though an idea struck me. The player character had a nice hefty sledgehammer right there that he could use to fight the guards and turn his sad existence into a damn fine action movie that is when this scene came into my head.

"Fuck all of you and this sick fucking TV show, but you forgot to consider one thing in this little plan of yours." Hammer Man picks up the sledge hammer with a murderous gleam in his single blood shot eye. "You just gave a quarryman a fucking sledgehammer. And I've moved mountains with less." With several powerful swings he destroys the central control room leaving a single security camera working. Walking up to it he yanks it off the wall smirking into it. "With this hammer I will tear down your mountain, and there's fuck all you can do to stop me." As the guards burst into the room Hammer Man smashes one's head like a melon before caving in the chest of the second on his way out the double doors.

Basically we would be playing this TV show either before the escape leading up to this scene or after this scene where our pair will need to escape the fortress like television studio and embark on a war against the sick bastards who thought up this show in the first place?

Anarchists Anonymous(modern day, urban sci-fi, dystopian, romance and smut potential

Some people want to save the world...others wants to watch it burn...and others still want to be the ones standing there holding the matches and gasoline. Which one will you be? In a world absorbed by the battle between the new and old, technology and tradition. Many are lost in the ebb and flow of society, some try to help make things better, others just sit back and watch and some people still want to help, but want to do it with fire and fury, burn it all down and rebuild it.

Now in the past, such a thing was more a dream than a reality. But in the far future with enough know how and money you can very well be the harbinger of the end. Sadly even with the know how you need the money and as is the case will all of history, getting that kind of money is a chore and feat all on it's own. Still where there's a will there is a way, be it by being the best shooter on your block, mastering cyberspace, or just being the living embodiment of it's better to be lucky than good. There's a path to greatness for every walk of life and skill set. It's just a matter if you'll do it all alone or have help along the way.

The Good Samaritan(true crime, realistic, modern day, near future long burn mystery, romance and smut potential)

A plot inspired by the Tracy Chapman song: Fast Car, but not as directly inspired as my standard Requiem plots so I can't call it a full Requiem and just a Rumination.

Scenario: On a long deserted highway at 3 AM not even the stars and moon wish to be out. But Fate never sleep and she is always looking to create intrigue and test the boundaries of people. And tonight there's not one, but two people she wishes to test. A man with more blood on his hands than in his body and a woman simply escaping what life has dealt her. It started out as a stranger helping another stranger by offering a ride to the nearest motel, but soon turned into so...much...more.

Be it by happenstance or lack of funds the car they are in breaks down stranding them both at this run down little skin mark of a motel. Sketchy lamp posts and an even sketchier night manager. His greasy smile and arm marred with tracks tells the pair all they needed to know, one room with a single bed was all they had to look forward to, but sleep never comes easy for those who live in the dark. They know what shit lies in the dark alleys and shadowy buildings of the city they are fleeing, but once the night has ahold of you it never lets you go.

And it's not long before the past comes for them, the flimsy walls of the motel nothing to theses specters from the darkness of existence. But with wits and fists sharpened and tempered by their hard fought lives they escape together seeking shelter back where neither of them wanted to find it...the city. They say two heads are better than one right, but when both heads are more used to looking out for themselves and using others as stepping stones can these two lost souls continue to be a good Samaritans to the very person that has dragged them back to the life they wanted to be done with?

Nuance: A good start for a good story right? And like all my stories it can easily be adapted to nearly any time and world, but I personally like the vague modern woes and worries this base idea puts forth.

The Wandering Family of Warriors(historical fiction, alt history, fandom, fantasy, romance and smut potential)

A historical fiction inspired by the Three Kingdoms games specially the Dynasty warrior Empires games. A knowledge of the games or actual history isn't required, but couldn't hurt either.

Scenario: In the far past a great war between the great empires of the ancient world was brewing and already threatening to rip the world as they all knew it apart. And while the conflict never left the borders of their homeland, words and rumors know no such boundaries. Sent by Traders and Minstrels alike every kingdom was looking to conscript or hire more warriors to their side hoping to gain that one small edge in the next battle. And many warriors from all over have come to answer the call, many cultures, styles, and reasons have brought men and women to these verdant valleys and lush mountain forests. Three such warriors have come to the Three Kingdoms with a reputation already proceeding them. They are the Three Beasts, a golden lion, a blue wolf, and a white tiger, while their names aren't commonly known their armor and weapons are. They unmistakable in the sheer size they wield over the opponents and the way they fight, many have come to try and lure them to their side with promises of money, land, titles...and temptations of the flesh. And for now the Tiger, oldest and most powerful of the three have kept the other two honest and dedicated to the art of war, but they are not longer a cub and time has a way of catching up to us all...even a Beast of War.

Nuance: While inspired by the Three Kingdoms, from the prompt you can tell it doesn't have to take place in that world. And like before the options for characters is huge. The idea was born from my playing a warrior dressed in white tiger armor and carrying a massive sword, but even he could be someone else if my partner wishes. But the full idea is Tiger (called Tyr in my game) is a veteran of many wars traveling with his two kids a daughter and a son after his wife/their mother was killed. Born into fighting and battle both kids are very accomplished warriors in their own rite, but with their father the tree are nearly unbeatable each one making up for what the other two lack and protecting them from all sides. But soon Tyr met a beautiful warrior woman and wed her, the three then became four and the four became an empire in their own right. But like all great nations it is from within they begin to falter, that was as far as I wrote the story so the ending should this path be chosen is totally open.

The Last Atmoran (high fantasy, fandom, fish out of water, romance and smut potential)

Your usual fish out of water story man out of time finding everything he thought he knew changed, ruined, or simply gone from all memory. How will he adapt to this new strange world? Will he fall back into his tried and true ways of war and conquest or can a soft spoken companion bring him gently into the modern world and help him make peace with a past he never thought would impact the future?


Scenario: Long ago the ancestors of Men in Tamriel came from a lost and harsh land called Atmora. Far to the north and home gods and beliefs long forgotten, all we know of these ancient warriors is what we read about in the history books and that far back many of them are unreliable at best or downright deceptive and lying at worst. These is no one left alive to prove or disprove either way, but that has never stopped the thirst for knowledge and truth before so why now?

The world has begun to grow warmer and places once frozen and ignored have begun to thaw and bloom. Countless ruins and artifacts are seeing sunlight for the first time in eons. One such site is a massive burial mound that once sat under an impassible mountain, no records of it have ever existed. Not even the stonework itself look familiar, this is because it is from a time before the architecture was perfected. It is the oldest tomb of man ever found, it even seems to predate the cities of the Dwemer. It is also totally encased in Stalhrim, that rare and nigh impossible to mine material reserved for the mightiest of Atmoran heroes. Needless to say the academic world is all a twitter at this opportunity to study such an intriguing site. But once they finally get the means to start mining they find something that no one was prepared for. A fully preserved Atmoran warrior at the heart of the tomb, a veritable giant fully decked out in heavy Stalhrim armor  and a truly mastercraft set of arms lining his coffin. The value of the weapons and armor themselves could buy the Imperial City, but this was a King among the Atmorans, the most ancient and direct connection to Ysgramor himself many would say. There was but one issue with that claim, this man was nameless, clanless, he may have well never existed. Not even the list of the Five Hundred Companions spoke of a warrior over 7 feet tall with hair and beard as white as snow whose armor seemed to have a red tint to it, as such he simply became the Northman. A name that would go in all the studies and reports about him, for months the site was continuously excavated but it also continued to grow warmer. The color had returned to the Northman's visage and the scholars worried he would begin to rot, but before anyone could think of a spell strong enough to refreeze him the Northman's eyes sprung open and he leapt from his tomb swinging his massive Stalhirm sword wildly about him the air igniting with enchanted fire and blistering cold as he continued to fight a battle he wasn't aware was long since done.

It took a full squad of the Companions to bring the man done. They had been hired as guards both for their skills in battle but their reverence and connection to the culture the warrior had come from. Despite being a haggard and malnourished man he put up quite the fight shouting in the ancient Nordic tongue as he was wrestled to the ground and knocked out by a war hammer to his skull. The weapon broke on impact with his heavy helm but it did the trick to put the raging giant back to sleep. What to do with him next is a mystery, but he is without a doubt the find of the Age.

Nuance: Ok big idea for a comparatively small premise. YC can either be one of the Companions who took the Northman(MC) down or one of the Scholars who discovered him. The plot will be a slow burner as YC tries to teach MC about the world and help him find his place in it. Lots of adventures and tense moments will await us both and I hope we can find a good groove with it because there is nothing I love more than an epic adventure with slow burning romance and oceans of character development and interaction we can explore.

What crawls through the alley?(urban fantasy, neo noir, classic noir, grim dark, realistic, high romance and normal smut potential)

The favorite tale of justice and fairness against all odds. Sticking to the classic 1940 hard boiled detective romp to something more fantastical or even sci-fi. The pairings can be any number of combinations, good guy vs bad girl, monster hunter vs monster, cybernetic bounty hunter vs down and dirty bounty. Or many others.


Scenario: A lone beacon of justice in a city that has long forgotten it's meaning. Be it a vigilante cop dolling out his own version judge, jury, and executioner or a single nameless fool wanting to change things for the better. Life has never been easy in this city and anyone that tells you otherwise is an ignorant fool or openly trying to lead you down a long road to a quick death. But you've been around the block enough to be able to smell those intentions a mile off. But even the keenest bloodhound gets a stuffy nose from time to time.

Nuance: While the premises is pretty vague and open, what I love the most about this kind of story is the depths of character and wild roller coasters that come with dealing in the world of grays and shadows. This will be a long term story idea with all kinds of slow burn romance and possibly a very unhappy ending if the angel of tragedy descends upon us.

Requiem 1

I love listening to music and it often inspires me to do write stories, poems, and lots of other things here's a couple of music videos that inspire me...maybe they'll inspire you too. Each music video and idea will be in it's own spoiler titled with the emotion(s) they invoke rather than what story ideas they inspire.

Sorrow, melancholy, distant hope

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VRyfVG61pFs

Both the music and the image fill me with such a feeling of melancholy and regret that a story of fallen heroes or runaway youths trying to find peace in a world set on destroying any form of goodness practically writes itself. But that doesn't mean we can't write that story ourselves.

Loneliness, longing, regret

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3WL3BYrgm7Q

Like the above song this one fills me with a feeling of loneliness, but the image points me in another direction. Chance encounters, fleeting  desires, and someone being pulled back from the edge of oblivion by an encounter far deeper than passing glances in the rain. Maybe the girl is a reluctant prostitute homeless and jaded, but pretty enough to make a few bucks turning tricks and one client sees the pain behind those eyes and wants to save her. Maybe even a former friend or lover before her life took a bad turn.

Or maybe their just strangers in the night, casual greetings and half-hearted smiles in the rainy parking lot of a local grocery store until one of their lives comes to a crashing halt and needs help from the closest living person no matter what secrets they are hiding behind those distant eyes.

IN USE

Happiness, sheer optimism, true love

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZdxPRB2WC4U

This one actually has a very happy vibe to it. Perfect for a slice of life or slow burning romance I think. One character dreams of opening a small town cafe for people to come and enjoy the warm ambiance and maybe indulge in a sticky bun or two. The other can be a new hire looking for steady work right out of school and knows Character 1 from a few grades ahead of them or they go to the same college. Friendship and romance can blossom easily from there.

Or if we feel daring, could possibly be a pet play or maid/master story built up around one character being from a wealthy family and the other being a servant sworn to do their Master's/Mistress's bidding whether that means working as a server and spokesperson for the cafe or being the stress relief after a hard day of working. In use

Could go in any number of directions between the two extremes.

Danger, vengeance, justice

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P5dLu9ScRM0

The image kind of speaks for itself for a story. Either a dark fantasy about a Court of Madness looking for new recruits to join in their criminal enterprises or a story about bringing down said Court of Madness with superhero like antics.

Nostalgia and Contemplation

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDfS8B2-Mt4

This one takes me to an inbetween place. The distant future, but with remnants of the past still buzzing to life every night, inviting exploration and contemplation. What lies beyond the wall around our town? Where did this cozy little alleyway come from? What would it be like if it stopped raining and the smog cleared for just a minute? Could we see the star for the first time in centuries? Would there even be a sky left? If I keep walking West will I eventually reach the city limits?

Could support any number of pairings either in the future or even harken back to the good old days none of us really experienced?

Action, adventure, lost love

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zaFMODV9tTU&list=PLWxWJ3K6XkxL-n1DnEvHbgjfUAgaNR2Nh&index=15

Like some of the others the song and video speaks for themselves. A couple split apart by the endless wars of their homelands or even by the jealous wrath of a God/Goddess seeking to lay claim upon one of our two hopeless lovers. Time and time again they come to each other in grief and strike, but with barely a kiss or whispered promise between them they are rent apart once more. And like a chasm opening up between them it becomes harder and harder to return. But if there is one thing stronger than fate it's the love that only two souls can fathom. And they will either bring the world to it's knees or die in the race to be with their lover.

Fear, reverence, wonder

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5ep9d9JnVY&list=PLWxWJ3K6XkxL-n1DnEvHbgjfUAgaNR2Nh&index=40

This is very much wide open for any gothic themed story, but in particular it makes me think of someone waiting to be found. Someone locked away from the world either by their own hand or due to some cruel twist of fate or dastardly spell. Mayhap a beautiful Sorceress devastated by the loss of her family locked herself away with her powerful magic and some lowly woodsmen find her.

Or for the flip a powerful Knight sealed into the tomb at the bottom of the castle by some corrupt Mages who he tried to destroy and save the kingdom he loved. And a young heroine inspired by his tale seeks to free him and possibly become his Squire...or maybe something more as they take the corrupt Mages head on for the fate of all they know and love.

Heroism and Community

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7kIohOdfoE

Not exactly a music video, but when a song makes my spine tingle whenever I hear it I feel it must be put down for inspiration. Now I know it's from DA:I, but I feel the song itself can lend to a fantastic story that isn't set in the Dragon Age world.

Two lost souls facing the depthless night that has haunted them for their entire lives. Filling their every waking moment and much of their nightmares with it's power. But for every night no matter how long there will be a done and with that dawn, comes hope and an earth shaking reckoning.

Or from a more realistic story. The battle against the monsters of depression and sorrow, two aimless fools beaten down by life finding strength in one another and seeking that long awaited dawn.

Mystery, intrigue, excitement

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a_CuFxpTWyU&list=PLWxWJ3K6XkxIjnjEm0loVn7ZbKFvT3gkA&index=1

Jazz, always a favorite music of those lost in the night and in search of some peace and quiet, or just a dive to drown themselves in for a few hours. Could be taking place in the 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, or maybe more modern day or far future setting, but no matter the time the story always remains the same. When two ships cross in the night only the black and every mysterious sea knows how it'll end. Will they fight, will they flee, or will they crash together fleeing from unspeakable crimes of passion find themselves sinking faster and faster beneath the unforgiving waves?

Hopelessness, insignificance, awe

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vnl4ryyGkSQ&list=PLWxWJ3K6XkxIjnjEm0loVn7ZbKFvT3gkA&index=4

If a world ended and there was no one around to hear it would it make a sound? In fact would their be any sound if all life as you know it was done and you were the single remaining thing left wandering the nothingness of a world at the end of his existence? Possibly only weeks away from being engulfed in fire as the sun turned into a red giant? Or hopping over cracks in the ground as the earth is slowly being ripped apart by uncontrollable earthquakes? Or maybe things just died off and you're simply waiting for your turn, but one day you find you aren't alone in fact this other person looks to be your age and suddenly there is hope that more are around? Doesn't hurt they're attractive and of the opposite gender so at least you can maybe knock some carbon off.

But in a world so dead can you even trust your own senses?
This has a slightly better built idea than my other ones. One of our chars is a wandering survivor and the other someone who lucked out and hunkered down in a sturdy building sending out radio signals looking for others. Or both could be survivors pushed together out of necessity rather than love or affection yet learn these more tender feelings from a more tender time as they scrap together some kind of life among the ruins of the old world.

Requiem 2

Hopeful

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ro153fcFtdo&t=5159s

I will admit on the outset, it's the Elf woman in the image and her outfit choice that inspired me the most, but could still be a nice story in there somewhere.

Off the top of my head hows this sound?

In a land that has known nothing but peace for centuries. The finer things in life flourish, instead of bloody conflict there is theater telling grand tales of heroics and comedy to all even if they cannot pay for it. Instead of creating the sharpest blade or strongest armor, the artisans can truly embrace their namesake. Painting great masterpieces, sculpting the likeness of your gods into marble pillars and create a glistening white temple around them.

Even a world of peace though their must be a King, and every King...should he be lucky enough is blessed with children. And one such child is the beautiful Princess Nikea. The embodiment of Elven grace and beauty, embracing the softer like of an painter rather than that of a Warrior Princess railing against the boredom and expectations of a Princess. She is very happy with her life, happy to dress up and flirt with the Prince's of the other kingdoms. But when in the privacy of her chambers and with only her maids and personal bodyguard around she embraces simplicity rarely changing from her slinky dress or stockings. Sexual appetites pursued from time to time with her maids, but she wishes for the touch of a man. And only her bodyguard is allowed in her presence, but he's a man of purity and resolve...much to his own detriment. He sees Princess Nikea in all states of dress, he'd even seen her nude from time to time, but always he had to leave the room or keeps his eyes averted. A common grunt is never meant to bed a princess just die in her defense.

Sadly all good things must come to an end and during the Summer Solstice disaster strikes and the Princess and her bodyguard must flee into the cold unforgiving world while their home burns to ground from the fury of ancients forces beyond either of their ken. With their names and ranks dangerous they become new people and must embrace new lives with only each other to rely on.

Obviously YC will be the Princess and MC will be the guard, but am open to other ideas maybe even flipping the switch and the Bodyguard being a woman and the Prince be in danger. Always looking for other angles to look at a story.

Peaceful

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AIkfuWSZ0Zw

Much like the above I love the image and get more ideas from it than just the music, but still there is a story to be had.

A nomad lost in the endless desert known not only for it's unforgiving sands, but an ancient legends as old as the world itself. When the gods finished completing the world their cosmic energies were nearly spent, but they knew this would would need someone watching over it as they rest for the coming eons. As such they picked the daughter of the first King and imbued her with the remnants of their divine might. All their strength, wisdom, and abilities went into this innocent girl child. But it came with a prophesy as well as everything in the universe must be balanced.

These great blessing came with a timeline of sorts. When the girl has grown into a woman and reached the age of twenty-five her powers would returned to the Ether for the Gods to reclaim killing her in the process. But during this Release the Kingdom would know great strife and death as the many Fallen Gods and Demons of the world lust after the might of the Creators and this "Release" would be their only time to harness it. Fearing for the fate of his peaceful lands the King asked one of the Desert Fae to cast a Sleeping Spell on his daughter. Asleep her powers would remain dormant and preserve not only her but the world itself. The Boon was granted, but like with everything there was a cost. She would need to remain in a protected chamber so as to not be whisked away by those who seek her power and should she be woken by a man of pure heart and nobleblood she would return to the land of the living restarting the clock on her own life again.

This was over 1,000 years ago now. The Sand Kingdom had fallen in the many years since becoming only a myth. But rumors still persist that the Princess still sleep within the chamber protected by the ancient Fae waiting for the man from the prophesy to find her. But will they be able to protect her and the world as the clock dwindles down to her 1,025th year of life?

Do you wish to play a Goddess upon the mortal plane in a race against time to beat the fate thrust upon you without your knowledge? Or will you accept it for the greater good?

Regal, graceful, and mysterious

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQH7vDJBW1k&t=1058s

The music plus a web comic a friend showed me brought upon this idea.

In an alternate world...in an alternate reality. Science went off on it's own drumbeat for along while, the industrial revolution hit the world like a stream powered freight train. But magic did not die off like it did in our world, no it adapted, it evolved, it allowed man to merge himself with machines and clockwork.

Clockhearts as they were called became the workforce of the future. Able to go days without the need for rest, able to survive on minimum food and water. And designed for subservience as everyone was made with a single unique key, that key was the spark of magic that powers them. As such their "Key Masters" guarded these precious totems with their lives if a key every got lost or destroyed the Clockheart would die with it. And a Keymaster can only ever have one Clockheart, society grew exponentially on the backs of these automatons, but soon the needs outpaced the workers and they were replaced with pure machines needing only fuel and maintenance to work. The Clockhearts fell out of fashion for work or war. And by and large the practice of making Clockhearts died with them, they were turned into companions and pleasure slaves as they were created from the bodies of the deceased or made of a still mystical process that made their bodies soft and gumlike.

But these were the last iterations of Clockhearts before they vanished completely from modern life. Becoming the stuff of dime novels and moving pictures. Still models have popped up from time to time, decommissioned and displayed as oddities to be gawked at in sideshows and museums. World wars passed, politics changed, science replaced magic, the world become dull ad gray. Then the world's economy died off throwing everyone into a Great Depression. Many died or turned to crime, but some went back in history for a solution and they rediscovered the Clockhearts and a few scraps of magic instruction to create or reactivate one. This is where our story picks up, but where will it end?

The characters are open, you wanna play the Clockheart and me the new Key Master? Awesome.

Want to be the Key Master to my own Clockheart? Love the idea!

Bold and confident

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cEP1U5yFwyE&t=283s

In all honesty this entire album could make a damn fun RP to make, the songs all tell a great story and with some thinking you can connect each song as a different chapter in the life of a protagonist going from obscurity to fighting a tyrant and losing the first battle and being forced into the life of piracy to get back what was once lost and possibly free the new human colonies out across the stars from the mad Tyrant.

The Rush towards Salvation: We can play refugees on an Ark as it leaves the final destruction of earth and the whole RP can take place aboard the Ark doing various space things as we rush towards our final goal of the new Earth. Or we can be the scouts sent out by the Ark to hunt up resources for the Ark while we hunt for our new perfect home. We can even be pioneers on the New Earth and do a kind of Space Western story.

I would also be willing to play a small group of characters. A young family living onboard the Ark simply living the life they now have fighting to stay positive and happy despite being trapped in a giant tin can speeding through space running away from the fiery death of Earth struck low from the good life they had now stuck among the teeming masses alongside the scoundrel and cutthroats that had made it aboard the Ark.



The Final Frontier is my favorite song in the whole Album and gives the best story vibes.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MtS1vXPkRzQ

Dutiful, weary, and powerful

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zodHltkgK1w

Religious or no there is something enthralling about listening to men at war or coming home from war singing their worries and sorrows into the rain with no other goal, but to keep putting one foot in front of the other. This kind of world really has endless possibilities for exploration and it can be used in any setting or time as war is an eternal state.

The road is a rutted and muddy mess. Heavy boots clomp and squish through the muck, war never changes, only the locations and weapons. Be it the godless dunes of a distant desert or the gray clouded skies of home, for as long as there have been people there have been conflict. And now one more battlefield awaits, will it be fought with Swords and Shields? Might and Magic? Divinity and Havoc? No one knows, but all that is known is no one will leave the bloodied field whole.

IN USE

Wistful, calm, one with nature

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=10P52OzMwTc

An ancient village deep in the forgotten lands of a place lost in time. The natural and supernatural live in harmony, where a flute playing scarecrow or row of grinning skeletons waving at you are as normal as a farmer bringing a load of hay to the marketplace or a group of children running through the browning grass and fallen leaves of autumn. Many say such a place is impossible, but if you know the ancients pathways and can read the moon runes left by the Queen of Autumn you can find out just how possible the impossible really is.

Watched over by the King of the Pumpkin patch while his Queen is away, Alusia is a state of perpetual Autumn. The trees are always the blazing rainbow of reds, yellows, orange, and browns and while leave continuously fall whenever the wind blows they are never bare. It's the peaceful place between life and death, but the natural courses of the Seasons cannot be stopped forever. Will the mystical denizens of Alusia be able to keep the Claws of Winter at bay or stop the Blazes of Summer from consuming them? Only one story can tell, will we write it together?

Tired and Comfy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=re_4eCdyqnQ

Another simple idea but one built for a Slice of life idea rather than anything fantastical. While set in the future and the possibilities of cybernetics and robots are a thing they won't be quite as ubiquitous as they are in games like Cyberpunk 2077. Expensive and rife with controversy from human purists. So all and all not worth the bother, but the world itself will be a mix of the cyberpunk genre and some light Fallout post apocalyptic wastelands. The story itself isn't too built up, but it can be a great many things in the Slice of Life genre or we can simply use the world to build up an entirely new idea.

Battered yet undefeated

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BFJR8Sw9jBo

Short song for a huge story idea. The classic old war horse being dragged out of retirement for one last fight or a solider looking for one last plug at glory before the grave comes to claim him. Maybe his kid or wife are trying to help him find his peace with the life of bloodshed? Or maybe even a hopeful young warrior has sought him out to be trained, Heracles style. Or maybe even still a fellow old and broken down warrior looking for her long term rival to try and make peace or settle down with as they are the only ones who could understand the other, many possibilities to be tried.

Lucky, unlucky, curious

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5a1P5dbrK7g&t=107s

Music plays through heady smoke of the Crossroad Alehouse, in the town of Hesgrove. You walk in from a long day of tilling the fields or patrolling the forests and roads around the little hamlet. This has been your tradition for years, wiling away in the hot sun for what few bits of coin you can scrounge up. All so you can having a few hours of rest and relaxation before crawling into your bed for the night to sleep until the tedious cycle of your life starts again.


But tonight you notice a stranger seated by themselves in the corner of the packed pub idly shuffling a pack of playing cards. Anything to break up the humdrum monotony of your every day life is a welcome change, but the strangest thing you notice though isn't the intricate sword at their back nor their captivating appearance. No the strangest thing is that no one else seems to acknowledge the attractive stranger's existence. You soon find yourself entranced and your feet move on their own accord towards the Stranger's table, the closer you get the more attractive the stranger becomes. Your mind is locked into place and it isn't until you stop at the Stranger's Table that you feel the strange pull abate. You study both the stranger and the equally strange deck of cards they are still shuffling, the cards seem to be glowing and pulse with some kind of magic. Without looking at you the stranger begins dealing to both themselves and the empty chair across from them, they then speak.

Their voice is soft yet powerful, it echoes around your mind like the ringing of a bell. "You and I will play a game now friend. If you win I will be at your command for a full year. Be it a companion or simply a blade at your side, you will gain fortune and glory beyond your wildest dreams and be able to live a life of luxury for the rest of your days, but we will never meet again." So far your muffled mind thinks this isn't a bad idea, but it feels like your head is wrapped in a blanket of wool dulling your other senses and logic. The Dealer then look up at you, their green eyes glowing with a power that makes your soul tremble. "But if I win you will be mine now and forever, you will want for nothing and experience the truest of loves, but we will never be apart and your life now will be erased." As the final card is dealt you feel the trance you have been in fully leave, you regain control of your limbs and your faculties. Something tells you that if you chose you could leave right now and never have to worry about this green-eyed Stranger and their unnatural looking cards again...but the question is....will you?

Eager, adventurous, foolhardy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxb7t3J7ZX8&t=1s

Where there is life, there is conflict. And where there are human know the worst and most devastating forms of conflict. But far in the future where gunpowder and armored vehicles once existed the blade and battle armor have returned. Conflict has returned to it's roots from many centuries passed, man vs man, blood on the sand, and where brutal honor clashes with harsh reality.

There are no nations, no Kings, and what gods do exists only bless those that have proven themselves worthy with their leniency and boons. To those who have earned a god's blessing, they are blessed with great abilities and/or legendary weapons of power. These blessings are best seen in the unnatural mutations given to each Champion by the deity themselves. Unfortunately the only way into a Deity's favor is a lifetime of blood and battle. You must walk hand in hand with death every waking minute of your life, never growing soft, never growing weak, never falling from your patron's favor.

Needless to say such a life is short and fraught with suffering. But there have been rumors of a singular warrior with a huge black spiked sword that has been fighting for decades and never once took a hit or lost a fight. No one has ever seen this warrior,  the swaths of dead bodies being the only proof the myths or more than just stories. But if there's one thing you've learned from living your whole life in the wilderlands is where there is death there must be someone to deal it, and someday they'll need to be brought down for it.

Requiem 3

Badass yet shortsighted

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXYIxJScSik

FFDP is by far one of my favorite modern bands and hands down my favorite metal band and anyone of their songs could easily inspire me enough to make a story from. But this one in particular gives me the vibes for some genres I love. Post apocalyptic, western, gunslinging, rough and tumble life of living by your wits and guns alone. Maybe we're part of a raider tribe taking care of rivals for the suits in the last big city left after everything went to hell? Or a couple of suits looking to get a foothold in the world before the worlds puts it's foot on our backs. Or the good old fashioned Romeo and Juliet of the wasteland, open to any kind of pairing that would fit into the world that video portrays.

Tribal, powerful, ominous

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SsqKoSMd-tg

This song takes me to an ancient time where man and the mystical walked hand in hand. Where blood was shed on may battlefields against a common foe, and while the day was won, the foe was never truly defeated. But in the following centuries the wounds of total warfare have passed. Humans live in peace alongside Non-Humans and their rulers are just allowing intermarrying, hybrid children, true peace and equality. The only hints of conflict come in the ancient tunes song by the Skalds and Scholars, but two young people in a small mountain hamlet are about to learn that the songs they mock are really lessons on history. And those who forget history are destined to repeat it.

A personal thank you to one of my writing partners Lilias for finding this awesome song and thinking of my RT!

Quiet wonderlust

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18v0li8yQKo&t=2065s

What do you do when you can't sleep at night? Drink some warm milk? Take sleep-aid? Work out until your pass out? All viable option, but what do you do if your first idea doesn't work? That's a bit harder to answer, but for some the back up plan is to slip on some comfy shoes, a warm coat and go for a walk.

We allows the calmness of the night to sap away our anxiety and helps us to sleep. Even if we have no where to go, just the act of walking can sometimes be enough to tell our brain it's time to sleep. But sometimes...just sometimes...we wander until the place we need to go finds us without us even knowing it. Be it in the middle of a noisy city or in the heart of an ancient forest the universe will always bless the wanderer with a prize for all their walking. Maybe a rare bit of treasure, or the discovery of true love, or maybe a war you never wanted any part of, but find yourself taking up arms in the defense of something beyond yourself.

Contentedness and comfy love

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3UR6Cdjvfw8&t=124s

Reaching the ultimate goal of happiness, to have someone there for you at the end of the day. Just doing their thing while you do yours, but always just being a call away from joining you. Living with someone so comfy in their own skin and in your presence they don't even bother to put on proper clothes and just parade around in their bra and panties for you.

Love is the greatest gift known to humanity. Be it the love of a parent to their child or the feelings shared between those parents before the child was even born that spark of emotion at love at first sight. But there is another kind of love, one worn into it's perfect equilibrium over time spent with their lover. A few years down the road of being a couple but before they take the next big step, just living day to day by each other's side being there whenever the other calls.

Sadly even true happiness comes with troubles, but what those troubles are can be anything and they can happen anywhere. The only questions is...can they recover and find that spark again?

Sensuality, fast living, slow burning

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iltDPthGLdY&t=26s

A story of chance encounters between two people who would never cross paths or even look at each other in the street, a single night of passion turning into a lifetime of regret?  An accidental touch of the hand turning into a turbulent path of commitment, infidelity and eventually going their separate ways?

Like the old song says

A singer in a smoky room
The smell of wine and cheap perfume
For a smile, they can share the night
It goes on and on and on and on

She was just another lower middle class girl looking to earn a few extra bucks to pay for her college, he was a young man burdened by a terrible life full of lying, stealing, and pain looking to drown out the screams in his head with some alcohol and the warmth of a woman's flesh even if he had to pay for it first.

But that night turns into something neither of them wanted at the time or were even ready for. Maybe a child, maybe a ghost from one of their pasts comes back with a bloody knife and a heart full of vengeance? Either way they are trapped between a rock and a hard place, can they get through them both and go back to who they were or would their lives be changed forever from a single bad judgement call?

Resigned solitude

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LIL8iqJyL-s&t=8s

Many would kill to live in their own mansion and have their entire life and whim catered to. Tis the dream of every dirt shoveling little kid working their fingers to the born on their parents farm or selling flowers in the town market. They look upon massive house atop the hill above their tiny village with eyes full of envy.  They only see paradise and something they'll never know.

Sadly the grass isn't always greener on the other side. Yes the family on the hill lives in luxury and splendor, but their parents are grim and professional individuals. To them having children is an investment on the future of their estate and fortune, they can whip and mold the kids into perfect little copies of them and continue the vicious cycle of earning more money than they know what to do with, but never doing anything greater with it. They horde it away like a family of clutching, grasping, covetous dragons.

Despite their efforts though their children are not so easily whipped into line, born just as stubborn and focused as their folks they do whatever they can to break free of their gilded cage. And one day the very incarnations of chaos stumble their the gates of their town, a large troupe of traveling performers have come to town. Their loud music and bright wild outfits bringing some much needed color to the drab and gloomy town. They send the carefully laid structure of the town into madness, but the parents upon the hill cannot simply throw the Troupe out, no they are protected by the King's decree. As long as they destroy nothing and hurt no one they are free to wander through as may borders as they wish. They are the truest form of freedom known and it's a lifestyle found quite attractive to the children especially the youngest.

And it didn't hurt there was a young person around their age among the entertainers, attractive and charming, the exact type of person their parents would never approve of. And the exact type of person to free them from their life of greed and misery.

Well that's all for now, I'll try to keep this updated with new ideas or calls for fun times. Thanks for reading, have a good one!

[Wilderness Soul]

Recast

Thought I'd add some sheets I've made over the years to see if anyone wants to make a story with these fine and partially mad characters. I don't do femboys or submissive men, furthest I go is damaged, but not broken men. So sorry in advance if that is what you're looking for. I also have a large number of female chars to pull from and some may be added to the Cast as I see fit, as well as any female OCs I make on E itself.

Over all I have over 300 characters to pull from for stories, but always making more. Also I'll likely be adding more sheets when I do my monthly bumps as well as editing the OC when new ideas come to me so please keep checking back and maybe even bookmark this for later?  ;)

The Recasts Group 1

Prince Constantine Dobuell

Birth Name: Constantine Dobuell
Chosen Name: Grimshaw Greenhood
Age: 20
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description):

Prince Doubuell

A young man of proud size and weight. An even 6 foot tall and a solid 185 pounds. While muscular he isn’t what you’d expect a knight to look like. His muscles lie under a smooth layer of royal fat that actually streamlines his appearance more. Shoulder length brown hair that rests in curly waves, and what he would call a roguish stubble growing as he has let it as well as his hair grow out to try and hide himself better among the uncut masses. His eyes are an unremarkable brown, but behind them is a keen intelligence and sense of self preservation.

Despite his love for his princely suit of armor he now runs around in simple leather armor consisting of a chest piece, gauntlets, shin guards and greaves. Still made of fine leather as he had stolen it from the guard barracks of his family’s castle, but far less noticeable than his mail.

Race: Human
Job: Runaway prince/ newly cloaked Ranger

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5): Many of Constaintine’s skill are built around courtlife, as such his more practical skills leave much to be desired. Not one for survival, hunting, or woodcraft if push came to shove. And much of his experience is based upon theory more than practice. He’s never used his sword fighting skills in open conflict, just self defense in duels. Same goes for his skills in archery.

Swordsman: A skill every prince of the Dobuell Dynasty must learn. Most skilled with the Arming sword, but he has learned to use the two-handed flamberge quite well since running away from his estates.

History:Like swordsmanship, history is very big in his family. He was steeped in not only the history of the lands his family owns, Dravsdyre, but all their neighbors and their neighbors. All of Esterra was beaten into his head.

Horsemanship: The pride of his family’s lands. They are a horse people as such riding is as essential as breathing for them.

Music: Every Prince worth his salt plays at least one instrument, Constantine plays the pan pipe.

Archer: More for sport than a need to hunt, Constantine is an adequate archer.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Flamberge sword: Having fled quickly he wasn’t able to grab the weapon he was most used to, but he soon found the large wave like blade sitting unguarded on a blacksmith’s bench so he grabbed it and quickly adapted the sword fighting he already knew to the heavier blade.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): Forgoing the hand-made suit of fine plate armor he had he managed to steal a suit of leather armor and a heavy green cloak allowing him to pass as a simple traveler.

Equipment: Water skin, fire making tools, a hand axe, and his pan pipe.

Personality: Grimshaw even as a runaway was raised to be a gentleman. He’s fair minded and kind when he needs to be, but can easily become hard and vengeful if his ire is raised enough. Still he does his best to keep his cool and much prefers planning ahead than rushing into trouble.

Likes:

Sex related: Women, fit bodies, breasts, curvy girls, being on top, getting oral sex, giving vagnal sex, making a mess of his partner.

Normal: Adventuring, playing music, horses, the sun, the moon, and mead.

Dislikes:

Sex related: Anything too gross or gory,  men, unfit bodies, being tortured, torturing, reciving anal, animals, mutliple partners.

Normal: Unnecessary fighting, losing, the snow, milk, cruel people, most nobles.

Background: Constantine’s life has been decided for him since the start. Born in the middle of many decades long feud between the Southern Kingdom of Dravsdyre and the Northern Kingdom of Zesna. The Dravos and Zesners were once a single people way back in history and even today they share similar cultural and religious beliefs. But where one side focused on honor in battle and becoming warfighters of the highest caliber, the other focused on monetary growth and becoming smarter in how they fight wars.

While full fledged war has been kept at bay for most of his young life, the tensions were quickly growing to the boiling point. Both sides knew full war would devastate them no matter who won, so the only prince of Dravedyre would be betrothed to the middle child of the North. a rambunctious young girl named Selma. Close enough in age to be eligible for marriage at the same time before all hell broke loose. They were set to be wed when they both turned thirteen, but were allowed to meet before then. The youngsters became fast friends, Selma was more like a boy than most boys in the South so they spent most of their time playing adventurer. Slaying bandits together both of them riding the girl’s Highland Ox, Tiny into battle against an evil wizard and his army of ten thousand skeletons with just sticks and rocks.
Things were looking up for the two kingdoms, until their tenth birthdays. It was the yearly meeting of the powers to talk things over concerning the futures of their children and kingdoms. But fate would have a cruel trick in mind this day.

Communication had always been a sticking point for the two families. While both spoke the common tongue, the Southerners used larger words and their quick speech could be missed if you aren’t paying attention. And that was exactly the case, Queen Angara misheard Queen Lilina say the word subversive when talking about teaching Selma the finer points of courtlife. Instead she heard the word “submissive” and the idea of her daughter being turned into some mousy little waif that bows to her husbands every whim caused her to call the other Queen out inadvertently accusing the other woman of being weak. King Rex heard this and tried to correct it, but Rune had also heard the word submissive being tossed around feeling the same way as his wife did about it. Tempers flared and the meeting ended with declarations of war in everyone’s minds. That was also the last time the two friends would ever see each other again.

Ten years rumbled by talk of war and small pockets of fighting broke out all along the borders. But neither side moved to openly declaring war, they bided their times. While both warriors neither king nor his queen were a fool. Selma had a younger sister named Elsa who was coming of age soon and unlike her sister she had a more subtle one could even say submissive personality. While the idea of their warrior daughter becoming weak wouldn’t pass their minds, the young sister could fill that role without the kingdom losing such a promising warrior. And since Elsa was the only other daughter the Northerners had that was of marrying age it was decided she would be their second and last attempt at peace with the South. But upon meeting the girl something about her deeply unsettled the prince. She was no doubt beautiful, possibly even more so than Selma.

She was also softer than her sister, more meek you could say, but still she possessed a fit curvy body. But something about her eyes just filled him with a deep dread, like he was looking into the eyes of a poisonous snake getting ready to strike. He played along for a few weeks, but as soon as word that the King and Queen of the North had gone missing he was like a shadow. Fleeing the castle, now under the guise of Grimshaw Greenhood he’s been roaming incognito for the last few months looking for ways to get through the border and away from the brewing war.

Other: While not inexperienced he’s not the callous manwhore most princes are.

Master Leapous Nightfur

Name: Master Leapous Nightfur
Nickname: Master Nightfur or Leap

D.O.B: Born the fifth day of Spring, 33 years ago
Gender: Male
Occupation: Guardian Warrior of the Hidden Vale

World: The Land of Everlasting Seasons
Time: Year of the Strawberry Moon
Race: Harricken
Dreamer Ability: Rare Dreamcather

Appearance:

A giant among his kind standing at a stagger 4'5 and wearing a springy 130lbs of martial artist muscle, his fur is black as night. His pupils burn with the white of justice while the rest of his eyes are as black as his fur.


Personality: { Proud, virtuous, fair-minded, stone-faced, and dutiful }

Master Nightfur was chosen from birth to follow the Warrior's path. He showed promise in the Shaman and Gatherer paths as his father did before him, but his unusual size and pitch black fur destined him to being the one to fight and defend the Hidden Vale. Trained and dedicated through his entire life, Leap embraced the ways of honor and virtue at a young age and while his dedication to them can lead to him have tunnel vision he's always willing to pay for his mistakes.

Likes: The Spring, The Summer, Training, Females, Protecting those in need

Dislikes: The Fall, The Winter, Cowards, Evil-doers, cheese

Fears: Failure of his duties, Fire, Dying away from home, Disgracing his father

Favorite Dream(s): Arriving at the Breeding Field during Spring's Eve for the first time as a Youngling. It begins with him stepping out of the darkness of his family's burrow and being smacked in the face with not only the smell, but the sound and the very taste of Spring! The music fills his ears and the smells of fresh herbs upon the Deeper'n'ever Pies and the oh so pleasant burn of Hotroot Soup. Soon everything blurs into a slideshow of images and faces and always awakens just before dawn in his dream.

Recurring Nightmare(s): He has only one nightmare that continues to rear it's ugly head and as far as nightmares go it is fairly short. He is upon a black field of blood and decay, the bodies of his fellow villages scattered all around him. Some torn to pieces, others burnt to blackened husks. The smell of death and fire assail his nose, but the sheer silence of the battlefield is the worst. Not even the wind blows across the corpses. He is always standing at the center of the battlefield his own body ripped into and half burnt, he had failed his one duty...to protect the Vale. His blade is broken and his armor sundered his spirit...broken, so encompassing is the defeat that he doesn't even look up as the Dark Buck's axe crashing down upon his head jarring him to awaken, oftentimes screaming.


Relations: Bounder Nightfur, 78, father

Swifty Nightfur, 76, mother

History: Born the fifth day of Spring in the village of the Hidden Vale to Bounder and Swifty Nighfur. Proud Harrikens from the Greater Ridge area of the Vale. Being the oldest of Leapous was to be his father's companion and squire as soon as he could hop on his own four feet. Many would think this a sad life filled with no freedom or choice, but for Leapous this would be the life he would pick anyway given the choice. His father was one of the three Guardians of the Hidden Vale, the greatest of each of the Three Paths act as the unified force against all threats both foreign and domestic, temporal and corporeal, great and small. The traditions of Guardians goes back to the very founding of the Everlasting Seasons. There are no rulers nor any kind of standing army in the Hidden Vale, so the Guardians and their Three Paths are all the innocents of the villages have to rely on when Darkness and Decay creep upon their borders. Such honor is the greatest thing a youngling can aspire towards and Leapous would die before he'd let those Paths grow dark.

Theme Song: Invincible-Two Steps from Hell

Misc: He has no mate nor any kits, but he plans to change that in the future.

Captain Jagger Steele

Name: Jagger Steele
Age: 25
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Captain Steele

5'11, 168lbs of lean, mean, Planet Rusher muscle. Jagger's the son of a Interstellar Mining Magnet, James Steele. The old man died recently and has left the keys to he family fortune locked away until Jagger can find his own feet. Which suits the young man fine, his first real job was with a band of rough Mercs. There he learned to shoot, stab, and fight, it gave him the means and the muscle to keep himself alive. But no one gets far in this life without losing something. Jagger has a cybernetic right arm.

Usually dressed like above and despite his youth the years have not always been kind to him. Simple brown hair kept short and grayish blue colored eyes.

Race: Cybernetic Human
Job: Space Captain

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Blending in: Humans have spread to so many corners of the universe that they can blend in most anywhere.

Adaptive: Like blending in, Humans are quite good at adapting to their surroundings.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Pilot: A skill everyone needs in space. Jagger is a skilled pilot of both space and air vehicles.

Gunman: Mercs are the best at running and gunning. And Jagger was one of the best with pistols and rifles.

Blades: Stabbing things can be just as effective as shooting so Jagger learned to fight with knives and swords.

Charmer: Either a learned skill or one he simply picked up from many experiences. Jagger is a charismatic man...when he wants to be.

Pioneer: The thrill of exploring mixed with the knowledge needed to not die. Jagger can survive being dropped onto nearly any kind of habitual planet.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Sparkshot pistols: Two old-fashioned looking revolver pistols that shoot out laser bolts.

Vibrathermal sword: Like his pistols his sword is old-fashioned looking, but vibrates very quickly and creates a super heated blade that can cut through most things.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): His jacket offers some protection from blades and the heat from his sword and he carries a shield generator with him that puts a small force field around him.

Equipment: Traveling papers, spare charges for his weapons, spare clothes, survival gear, a small maintenance kit for his cyber arm.

Augs(Limit of 3):

T-800 Cybernetic Arm: A powerful cybernetic arm that gives him increased strength and dexterity. 

T-1000 Cybernetic skeleton: Needed to keep his robotic arm from "breaking free of it's mount" if you will. Greatly increases his durability and weight.

Personality: Jagger is a ladies man, raised rich then thrust into a very militaristic group of mercenaries. He's can be a called a gentleman, a scoundrel, a charmer, and a womanizer all in one sentence and all would apply. He's got a good sense of duty as well as a keen ability to see right and wrong, but he's also one who likes to go big or go home.

Likes: Women, drinking, fighting, space, making money, fucking, exploring.

Dislikes: His Uncle, his Cousin, the fact he needs to earn his own fortune before being allowed to claim his fathers, getting stiffed on a payment, losing.

Background: Born to a life of luxury and bliss Jagger's early life was spent terrorizing the office workers in his father's Mining corporation as he was dragged all across the galaxy on business trips and vacations. Both his parents were alive and loved each other deeply. And considering how much of a man whore his father was that is really saying something. But his mother, named Jemima was not a woman to be trifled with. While Jagger's father James had the money and the brains, Jemima had the brawn and the backbone. She often liked to joke that if James cheated on her there wouldn't be a corner of the universe he could run that she wouldn't hunt him down in and break all three of his legs, idle threats Jagger liked to think.

Still his parents raised him well off, but never let it spoil him. It was a very austere childhood, but a nice one. He learned the value of a buck even if he never used that skill. But that was childhood, in the middle of his teens his mother passed and he as left alone with nannies and such while his father jetted around the cosmos on business deals. He couldn't go with him most of the time because he grew up during the 34th planet rush and that was the most dangerous time to be traveling around space. Pirates, rival companies, and newly discovered alien species that could kill and inseminate you before you even realized they were there. Being left alone so much forced the young man to find a job to keep himself occupied. First as a cargo hauler on his father's nearby cargo station, then a short distance space jockey for that same company, and eventually he fell in with the Red Star Mercenary company. A rough band of ex soldiers and bounty hunters, but in good standing on his father's payroll. His lineage did him no favors with this bunch though...in fact it most likely worked to his determinant. He got the worst jobs, the longest bouts of training, and the most ass kickings out of the whole company even when recruits younger than him joined up.

It sucked and he swore to get revenge on all of them someday, but they made him the man he was today. And when James died they became a second family to him. And now that Jagger is off on his own he is very glad he kept on good terms with them...you never know when you'll need a group of bloodthirsty marauders at your back.

Other: Jagger's love life is wild and varied...but even though he's slept with females from no less than twenty different compatible species he still hopes to find a woman like what his father found in his mother. A badass bitch to keep him in check and raise his children.

Booker Drake

Name: Booker Drake
Age: 35
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description):

Booker

6'0 in height and a muscular 185 pounds. Booker is man whose life has a been a constant battle, living wild on the streets of Black Iron City. Surviving on his wits and his fists. His skin is scarred and weathered and his brown hair is short but generally messy, his blue eyes show the permanent haze of a lifetime lost to drugs, blood, and alcohol.

Usually dressed as the above (minus the blood, gun, and radio) even as an adult with his own apartment he still lives very much like the orphaned child he was in the past.

Race: Human
Job: Former hitman working under the alias "The Dragon"

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Determination: Never one to go quietly, Booker has a long stubborn streak in him that burns to outlive anything that comes up against him.

Open-eyed: Shocked into seeing the world for what it was early on. A dark cynical place, he's not one to take things at face value. He looks deeper and finds the truth.

Chemical Resistance: Created from a lifetime of substance abuse, Booker has an usually high resilience to drugs and alcohol.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Gunman: While he prefers using pistols Booker is also quite skilled with rifles and shotguns.

Knife-fighter: For close quarters fighting, Booker is very skilled with all kinds of knives. From simple pocket-knives to more exotic ones like kunai.

Martial Artist: A much needed skill and when used in combination with the gun and knife skills Booker can twist and dispatch a foe from any range.

Connections: You don't last long in the seedy underworld without making the right friends in the right places. You collect favors and pay them back.

Driver: When you live life in the fast lane you gotta learn to drive anything and everything with wheels and a motor.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons): Changed with the mission. But he generally carried a pair of Sig-Sauer pistols and a pair of ballistic knives.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): Like his weapons, any kind of armor depends on the mission ceramic dragon scale armor that covers his entire upper body as well on his thighs and shins.

Equipment: Mission dependent.

Personality: Broken from a life lost or jaded to the life he has. Both can be used to describe Booker. He's been fighting most of his life, and thanks to the gravel in his guts and the spit in his eye. He grew up quick and he grew up mean, his fists got hard and his wits got keen.

Likes: Being alone, peace, quiet, being sober, coffee, and nighttime.

Dislikes: People, his old life, being alone, drugs, alcohol, and the dawn.

Background: Like many kids born in Black Iron City, Booker grew up in an orphanage. All he knew of his parents were they weren't residents of the B.I.C. and they named him Booker Drake. Years later he tried looking up the surname Drake in hopes of finding them, but when everything came up a dead end he figured they just tacked it on as an afterthought. Either way after a few years of living in what amounted to a refugee shelter for kids he escaped and lived on the streets.

In hindsight...staying in the Orphanage might've been the smarter option or at the very least least dangerous one. On the dirty streets of the B.I.C. you learn quick or you die quicker, he wasn't the only kid that ran away that day, but by the end of the first month he was the only one left. He had earned a small rep for being quick in a fight and able to take some hits, so one of the biggest Crime Families, the Gonmsh came to the dirty young brawler and gave him a home and three meals a day and all he had to do was sell his soul. Which the starving young boy quickly did. Little did he know just how much that roof and food would cost him.

The beginning of the end is what Booker often calls his childhood and adolescence. He was trained, broken, rebuilt, and broken again. Aside from a few instances of lucidity his youth has always been a blur, in fact he often doesn't even remember anything before his first kill at sixteen. Some young drug dealer was sneaking around on Gonmsh territory undercutting their businesses. Booker was given a pistol and a location, the first kill is always the hardest and the young hitman almost messed it up, he hesitated pulling the trigger and almost got a knife through his stomach for it. He pulled the trigger out of fear, but got the job done so he got paid. It got easier after that, they still haunted him for a few years, but once he learned to detach, killing things became second nature.

He continued to train and take on bigger and bigger jobs. Always quick, always ruthless it's how he earned the nickname "The Dragon" he earned his pay then drank or drugged himself into oblivion. A vicious cycle and one that looked to be without end, until one night he was so far into the bottle and pipe that he didn't notice the apartment building he was staying in was on fire. Passed out on his floor he didn't smell the smoke or feel the heat as it began to eat the floor out from under him. He slept through his floor collapsing into the floor under it and only woke up when he landed in someone's kitchen sink and broke the old rusted water spout off in his back and by then it was too late or so he thought. Firefighters found him and dragged him out before they handed him too EMTs who took him to a hospital. It took Doctor's thirty hours to work the rusted pipe and all its pieces out of him. As he still had a large amount of drugs and alcohol in his system they couldn't give the man any sedatives so he was mostly awake through the entire operation.

It was a pain he never knew existed and this is after he'd been shot, poisoned, and set on fire a couple of times. He didn't come to his senses again until six month after the fire, he was forced into detox and forced to face the monster he once was. All their screams and bloody faces tormented him more than a few times he had to be restrained to keep him from killing a Nurse or Orderly. Soon though his madness cleared up and he was released, he recovered for another month and came to the conclusion that he needed out of this life. But leaving has never been an option. You don't leave the Gonmsh unless it's in a body bag, still Booker had to try.

He approached the Boss and laid out his plans, any normal member of the family likely would've been shot on the spot, but a popular pearl of wisdom that had sprung up during Booker's time with the family came into play. "When The Dragon speaks, even the Kings must listen." The Boss didn't want to lose his greatest weapon, but at the same time knew that if he denied Booker his wish he would be the next body in Booker's Tally. So he came up with an impossible task...or at least one he thought was impossible. Booker was to kill the entire Hastings Crime Family whose territory was adjacent to Gonmsh Territory so the family could take it over. At the time the Hastings were among the most powerful and well-armed Syndicates in Black Iron City anyone going against them would be killed before they got to the front gates. Booker took the job without hesitation and within a week the Hastings were being buried in their family cemetery and all their holdings and businesses were under Gonmsh control. The Boss granted Booker's request more out of fear than a desire to keep his end of the bargain.

This began Booker's life as a free man, but while he wouldn't be asked to kill anyone, he would never truly be free of it. He knew this...but just didn't care...he knew that eventually trouble would find him again...but he also knew that trouble would be biting off far more than it could chew if it did come for him.

Other: Many lovers, but no partners, not even a good friend he can rely for help.

Igor Iron-Bear

Name: Igor of the Winters' Tale

Nickname/Deed-Name: Iron-Bear

Age: 30

Breed: True-Born

Gender: Male

— APPEARANCE

Human Form

While not the tallest of his ilk standing a stout 5'6, Igor is wide in both his shoulders and his stance. Weighing 285lbs of meaty muscle he is not sculpted and from a distance he may look more puffy than buff. But a punch from him will be like getting hit by a bear, just solid impact.

While living in the deepest recesses of Siberia he has fallen quite far behind in fashion generally dressed as above. Furs, leather, and steel plates. His body marred by scars and old Norse inspired tattoos. Hair and beard are black and scraggly from a lack of regular washing, and while one eye is milked over from an old wound his other smolders with a primal spirit. Dull amber and unwavering, every fiber of his being reflects the earliest days of Man and Wolf.

Wolf Form

Like his human form, Igor's wolf form reflects a more primitive design. That of an ancient Dire Wolf, oversized canines with an exceptionally large skull, a shorter, but more stout body and much longer limbs than today's largest natural wolf. His fur is the grayish white of the early dawn with black stripe like markings running along his legs and shoulders his paw were smaller than one would expect, but they hold all the power his frame can muster.  His eyes, while still white and amber now have a glow about them like that of a campfire upon the desolate tundra.

Warrior Form

While his human form is short and stout and his wolf form is simply stout, Igor's warrior form is where he truly earns the name Iron-Bear.

Only 10 feet high, but nearly four foot wide from shoulder to shoulder. One word comes to mind when his foes gaze upon the Wrath of Winter...power...like a glacier on two legs, slow but unstoppable once he gathers speed. His fur turns from the grayish white of his wolf form to pure white his stripes more pronounced now as they swim about his thick furry hide.

For all intents and purposes he looks like a prehistoric Giant Short-Faced bear, but once he lets loose his hunter's howl only fear and the promise of a wrath that strikes like a blizzard from Mother Russia herself. His white eye was become even paler almost blending into his very skull, but his amber eye now blazes like the flame of the setting sun.

Personal Possessions: A bottle of the finest Vodka every made and a yo-yo made from the bones of an ancient mammoth.

— PERSONALITY

Personality: Slow and steady as the winters of Mother Russia. Igor's pack is one the more traditional packs still left protecting the Sacred World-Oaks. They live in seclusion and call themselves the "Nastoyashchiye Volki" or the True Wolves. While their neighbors fled from the embrace of Father Winter they stayed true to the old ways. Standing vigilant as the  Father himself.

Igor is a reflection of this mindset. You do not rush the Winter, if you do it will take you and never release you. Patience is more than a virtue it is a survival mechanism, but patience among the Volki will never be mistaken for idleness. Always moving, always improving, even when the night is long and the fires low Igor will be working to improve himself and remove the modern mindsets of idleness even if it simply looks like he is staring dimly into nothingness.

Powers, Traits, and Abilities:

The Gifts listed are applicable to all Werewolves, unless they have an additional Flaw that lessens one of those Gifts.

He who shatters glaciers- While some of his kin dedicate themselves to the precision and symmetry of learning martial arts Igor has always found the...direct method serves him best. He needs not the flashy punches and kicks of karate or the submission holds of judo when one hit from him can snap a normal bear's spine in half and he can shatter stone with a hug.

Be one with the Winter- While most effective in arctic conditions, if Igor can manage to remain perfectly still he can nearly blind in with his surroundings, he'll be easily seen if someone looks at him. But if they are simply glancing by or busy talking with someone he can be right there and no one would be any the wiser.

Dark Tundra- An ability similar to Be one with Winter, but focuses on his willpower and ability to overcome trauma both mental and physical. Quite simply he stills his mind and just...shuts it off. From the outside it looks like a brainless brute's eyes glazing over and everything being said to him goes in one ear and out the other.

The Way of the Glacier- A body at rest will remain at rest, and a body in motion will remain in motion unless it is acted upon by an external force. Igor is a large and powerful man his power takes time to spin up, but once he starts running or swinging his fists very few things can withstand the blows or stop him.

Fears, Flaws, and Vices:

Every Werewolf has the Curses listed along with the Gifts.

Primitive- The Werewolf equivalent of a Neanderthal, while not demented or mentally challenged Igor is far from educated. He speaks fluent albeit slow Russian and broken English at best and he knows nothing of books or the written word.

Lost in the Snow- While the philosophy of the Nastoyashchiye Volki has steered the Pack through countless wars and natural disasters. Outside of their Territory it has proven a great annoyance and sometimes a disastrous liability. Clan members have been blown up by landmines or fallen off cliffs when lost in thought.

The rage of the sun- Igor has spent nearly his entire life in the frozen wastes of Siberia. The snow and cold are as warm and welcoming to him as his mother's embrace. But the closer he gets to the Equator the more miserable and slower he becomes even his mostly hairless Human Form.

Power over speed- Be it in combat or when hunting Igor has never been fast. He's more likely to take a speeding truck to his chest and smash it to pieces than step off the road. This means someone will likely need to be near him to pull him out of the path of a speeding silver bullet.

Mate(s): His Pack believes it is the duty of all able to breed, to try, and grow the numbers of their dying people. Monogamy is rare and reserved for the Alphas and Elders.

Cubs: Many and while he does spend personal time with them the raising of Cubs is largely a Pack duty.



Bonds: Jason and Igor are long lost half-brothers. Ilse and Igor were treasure hunters for a little bit before Ilse moved to America.

— HISTORY

Backstory:

The story of Igor Iron-Bear is one heard most commonly among the people of the Nastoyashchiy Volk. Born a single cub among twenty creating a single generation and raised as a singular unit. Sleeping together, eating together, training together, every adult in his Pack took turns spending time with and raising each cub. Mother and Father were odd terms rarely used, unless the ones who had actually created and birthed you wished to make it known. Dyadya i Tetya, Uncle and Aunt were used in their place. All were his family even if they did not share the same hair color or ear shape as him.

He did not even have a last name he was simply Igor to all. When formality was needed like in the the rare instances of other Packs coming to his people's lands he was introduced as Igor' Zimnyaya Skazka Igor of the Winter's Tale. Raised in the Old Ways the "True Ways" of Father Wolf and the Mothers. The land was your home and your larder, killing and eating only what was needed cultivating plants and vegetables for medicines and food. And when the time came...bleeding in it's defense.

Igor's people lived very isolated in the most uninhabited regions of Northern Russia. Largely unknown to every human that called the snowy country home. They were the myths of the Natives and the fevered rantings of the addle minded fools who dare to challenge Winter's Rule. You do not challenge Father Winter, for he is as merciless as he his diligent. You show him respect as well as respect his mates the Mother's Sky and Earth and you will see the hidden beauty of the snow and ice. Listen to his voice and he will share with you secrets not even the Fae can understand. How to create the perfect snowflake, where to find the herds as they hunker down for winter, how to listen to the voice of the Glacier and learn the tales locked away in their millennia old bodies.

The Way of Winter is the way of peace in a world both harsh and rapidly shrinking. Igor loved the lessons and loved his way of life. As he grew he learned so much more, how to find food even in the middle of the harshest blizzard, how to unhinge himself from the stress of life and sing with the Mothers as they take your burdens onto their own shoulders. And as he reached the breeding age he learned the pleasures of the female body as they were freed from the confines of their furs and leathers. He sired his first cub in adolescence with a female with blonde hair who was around his age. Like all of his Pack he raised the squalling little male with the rest of his generation. This was his life for many years, but with each year less and less cubs were being born a darkness was creeping up on his people.

That darkness came in the form of encroaching humans and other Thera . They claimed to simply be explorers, but his people have not survived centuries of conflict and learned the thrive in conditions no other race could, just to be tricked with honeyed words or shiny baubles. While war was part of their nature, the teachings of Winter had quieted their animal blood enough to let Peace be the journey. They let most explorers walk through the lands even lending them aid if needed, but their kindness as cautious as it was would cut them low.

On Igor's twenty-fifth winter of life their good deeds would bring their Just Desserts, but not in the way any had hoped. A group they had helped were Wolf Hunters in disguise, normally a disguise, no matter how intricate, would be sniffed out fairly quickly and the liars dealt with. But this particular group had a Witch in their midst and her magic aided their ruse to flawless perfection. That night Igor's pack was attacked, half of them were wiped out before they could mount a defense. And once they did...the tundra had not see such carnage since the second world war. Blood stained the once pristine snow for a mile in every direction, Igor and most of the Wolves his age survived, but two whole generations of cubs were slaughtered as well as many of their Elders. They were a pack without young or Spiritual Leadership, dark times were ahead for them.

But after five years of rebuilding and training the Nastoyashchiye Volki were nearly back at full strength. Igor had become the one of the Beta among his newly forged people, he could've been Alpha and many of his peers approached him with the suggestion. But he turned them all down, he wasn't built for leading. He simply wished to keep his pack strong, his claws were meant to crush skulls not shake hands. While unorthodox in his methods there was rarely a conflict he could not handle. But he could still feel the darkness creeping up on them, the Mothers sang songs of constant sorrow and the Father's Wolf's howl upon the shrilling wind sounded distressed. He asked the Sage and Alphas for guidance, but Father Winter had been silent these past five years. But rumors of a Ronin Pack reached Igor's ears, fighters on the frontlines defending the Sacred-Oaks and keeping the Father and Mothers' spirits alive. Joining them crossed his mind more than once.

Anchors: Igor has a whole pack of Anchors, losing any one of them would sufficiently hurt and enrage him. But his first born cub, Sergi and his first mate Anastasia had always held a special place in his heart.

IN USE

Mordred Shattergale

Name: Mordred Shattergale
Age: 28
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description):

Mordred

A tall, grim-faced man born in war and raised in cruelty. 6'1 weighing a powerful 185lbs of wrought iron muscle. Scars adorn his body both from battle and from his life among the Raider Band called the Valstaggs.

Cold and steady blue eyes glare out from under a long, thin, mop of dirty blond hair. His skin, despite spending much of his life outside is still quite pale. He earned the name "Gjenganger" early on in his life at war, he was a War Ghost a Revenant. Risen from the grave of the father or grandfather he never knew to wreak havoc and wrath upon his foes.

Race: Human
Job: Guard at the Inn of the Crossroads

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Northman: While he knows nothing of his heritage, he has the sheer physical power and cold resilience of all Sons of the North.

Endurance: Whether it's fighting or running Mordred has great stamina.

Focus: Born out of survival, if you lose focus among the Valstaggs you die. As such Mordred has a knack for keeping his eyes on the prize and can dedicate himself to accomplishing his goal.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Raider: Specializing in quick duel-wielding strikes and guerrilla warfare. Mordred is quite the terror on the battlefield.

Survivor: Expected to live anywhere for any amount of time. Mordred can live many dark cold nights upon the frozen tundra as well as among the lush forests of the South.

Swordsmen: The most basic but at the same time useful skill he owns Morded is a very dogged sword fighter, albeit more primitive in his moves than some fancy duelists.

Axemen: Like his sword skills he can normally be found fighting with a large one handed axe in his left hand and a sword in his right. But he can easily switch up the weapons and wield them with equal skill.

Archery: While not his best or favorite skill it's a fact of life that a bow and arrow are better hunting tools than a sword or axe.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Arms of the Raider: The sword and axe in the picture. Both made of high grade steel and kept sharp and in good care.

Hunting knife: Also in the above pic, always a handy back-up weapon. Made of the same good steel as his axe and sword.

Yew bow and arrows: Not in the pic, but kept in his room at the inn for when he needs them.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): The armor in the above pic, consisting of chainmail, gambeson, and treated leather and fur. Primitive, but warm and functional.

Equipment: Clean water, fire starting tools, sharpening stone, arrow crafting tools, a heavy bear cloak and a bed roll made out of wolf fur.

Personality: Mordred was raised in cruelty and cut his teeth on surviving the harshness of the life of a raider. While he has left that life behind he maintains a gruff jaded outlook on life and his stoic scarred face rarely smiles. But since he was pulled from the jaws of death by the kindly Brewmaster of Frostmoor, he has softened some and has been able to relax on occasion.

Likes: Women, peace, mead, the cold, Frostmoor, Bondor, and his new job as a guard.

Dislikes: The heat, thinking or talking about his old life, laziness, fools.

Background: Whether he was stolen from or sold off by his birth parents he has no clue. His earliest memory was staring up at Bolog, the sword master of the Valstaggs and the world going black as the grizzled old bastard stuck him in the head with a training staff.

From then his life was full of such painful memories. Every day he and other children he called siblings were run into the mud and blood of the raider camp. And every night full of hearty, but largely tasteless food and dreamless sleep. This was life for the first twelve years of his life, more kids were brought in, but very few lived to see their own birthdays. Weak boys were weeded out and fed to the attack dogs, and weak girls were turned into servants or bed warmers though in the end nearly every girl was turned into a bed warmer. But the few who proved strong were allowed to join him and the other tough boys in the training rings. One such girl was a wild young girl who was captured with him, her name was Elsa.

And while she was beautiful enough to be a desirable bed warmer, her wildness refused to be bedded down. She fought harder than most of the boys in their group and grew more powerful and beautiful each day. For Morded though he only grew harder and more deadly, beauty was never a factor in his life. He survived his first raid on a small trade caravan, killed his first man with a well-placed hatchet throw, and found respect and a niche in the life as a Valstagg Raider. Moving quickly and silently, relying on his savage agility and endurance to keep out of direct combat. He was a hit-and-run warrior a ghost among the blood and fog. It was the first day of the rest of his life. He earned his place among the blood-thirsty raiders, and never felt the switch of a teacher again.

He lost track of his kills before too long and his mind became a blur of blood and death. Elsa was the only bright part he remembered clearly. They grew close, fought side-by-side, ate side-by-side, as close as two people could get without being attached. Then one night they joined as lovers and never has the young warrior been so...content with his lot in life. They stayed close until one day he woke up after a decisive victory against another raider band alone with only the smell of Elsa's body and a note to remind him of what he once had. He understood, many who survive this long in the Valstaggs find the means to leave once they have earned the reputation to be freed. Elsa had found that, and Mordred's chance wouldn't come for another three years. When his party was defeated assaulting Frostmoor and he was left to die by the men he once bleed with. He expected death to finally win, but the kindly bass voice of a Troll and a giant hand brought him from the brink. Thus was the end of  "Gjenganger" of the Valstaggs and the beginning of Mordred Shattergale, guard of the Inn at the Crossroads.

Other: While currently single Mordred, like all raiders has had many lovers. But aside from Elsa Bulls-Bane, the girl he grew up with he has never felt any real love for the other women he's been with.

Dane Coal

Name: Dane Coal
Age: 36
Background: Dane’s reputation would make you think he was born in the middle of a hurricane to a mob boss and his favorite whore, but raised by a toothless bearded hag who schooled him with a strap across his back. And he will gladly let that stand as true, but if pushed or annoyed enough he’ll tell the truth and it’s not that far from the rumors.

He was orphaned young and tossed around various foster homes until he joined the military at seventeen. He played soldier boy until he was nineteen, but after a bit of a massively botched mission he was captured and tortured by the enemy for two years until he was rescued by an allied operation. At twenty-one he took his papers and tried to adjust to real life, but it was destined to fail.

He was driven to drinking, gambling, and eventually wetwork to pay off his debts to local mobster Abel Masters. It was a disastrous five years, but it allowed him to meet some interesting people and pay off...most of his debt. He made friends, enemies, and a few pissed off former lovers. But as long as he has his buddies Jack and Captain Morgan he’s good.

Personality: Dane’s personality can be best described as tired and rough. He’s been through too much shit in his life to really care about consequences. He’s dodged death so much in his life that he’s just waiting for the reaper to come collecting. He has an air of jaded bother about him and often comes across as very brusque and short on patience.

Strengths: Years of military training and merc work have given Dane lots of combat skill and experiences. Guns, martial arts, espionage, assassination, melee weapons, explosives, and many more. If it needs to die you call Coal. He can speak Arabic, Israeli, Spanish, Russian and German.

Weaknesses: For all his martial skills, he has just as many weaknesses. He’s a certified drunk, a consummate gambler both with his life and his money(which he has very little of most of the time.), and often rubs people the wrong way by simply standing next to them.

While a good merc and fighter all he’s really good at is war. He has PTSD, and a number of old injuries that have a tendency to flair up when the weather gets wet and cold. And deep down he lives with a constant fear of dying alone. While really contradictory to his outward appearances and demeanor. It’s been with him since childhood and only one person has ever seen that side of him, and he hopes the biz kills her before she tells anyone.

Looks:

Dane

Heavily built and lushishly bearded Dane has the appearance of a man born of strife and raised in combat. Heavily tanned skin, thick muscles, short brown hair and a thick coarse beard that clings tight to his chin. Tattoos adorn his upper body, but after spending so much time in the sun have kind of blended into the rest of his skin. He normally dresses in jeans and t-shirts, but adjusts his wardrobe as necessary for missions.

6 foot even and a warrior’s build of 250lbs his body is a road map of scars and old wounds. Busted knuckles, bullets wounds, knife slices, even a meaty couple of healed over burns. He usually smells of alcohol, but somehow manages to stay hygienic.

Other: An odd skill, but one that has earned him a few bucks during dry days. He’s a gifted carpenter and wood carver. From building furniture to whittling toys, but the skill was oftentimes too slow for his liking and drinking habits.

IN USE

Adam Dova

Name: Adam Dova, but as he is in disguise he goes by Adam Oakland
Age: 30
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and/or description):

Adam

Like many men of the Dova line Adam is a tall and powerful human. 6 foot even weighing a solid 180 pounds of muscle.  His hair is straight and shoulder length and the color of healthy tree back with eyes as green as emerald. When not dressed as above for battle he can usually be seen wearing a long leather coat on top of a white shirt, red vest, brown pants and black boots.

Race: Human
Role within the company: Skirmisher

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4):

Intelligent: Years of the finest education have given him a quick-witted and discerning mind.

Fit: Likewise with his education years of physical fitness training and swordplay have made him an extremely fit man.

Refined: No son of a Queen would be complete without etiquette training. Like his siblings, Adam is a gentleman despite hiding it under the gruffness of a simple merc.

Politics: More a skill learned by osmosis than actual training Adam has a keen eye for the grand political game and knows many of the players by name.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Sword and shield: Highly skilled in the use of one-handed swords and shield, Adam can even dual-wield two swords if needed.

Axemen: A skill learned after he decided to become a merc Adam can use the long axe across his back with great proficiency.

Artist: A side-effect of being the third son, not under the strict grooming of  leadership. Adam is very skilled at both drawing and painting.

Leadership: Tying into his upbringing Max is a reluctant but skilled leader.

Silver-Tongue: A skill he's had his whole life and one that has allowed him to keep his secret of being a Prince undiscovered. He can lie and talk his way out of most kind of trouble

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Longsword: The weapon in his right hand made of fine steel.

Long-axe: The axe across his back made of fine steel and carved mahogany.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): The black armor in the picture made of ebonsteel and his shield made of the same material.

Equipment: Fire-making tools, water bag, salted beef, spare change of clothes, whetstone, and a sketch book with charcoal sticks.

Personality: Adam is a man of calm disposition, but reservation. He doesn't talk about himself much as he needs to keep up the charade of being just some random merc looking for work. Actually he doesn't talk much at all, he avoids question and often dodges any attempts to get to know him. But underneath that gruff and distant exterior beats the noble heart of a potential King and he often stumbles over his noble roots when dealing with his comrades.

Likes: Earning his keep, glory, women, fighting, good food and good drink.
Dislikes: Politics, failure, going into the Dominion, getting too close to people.

Background: Born the third son of King Argyle Dova, Adam was raised with the old saying a King only needs an heir and a spare. He was the third one and despite getting mostly all the same training and education as his brothers he was never groomed for leadership.

He was the product of a drunken new years night between the King and Queen. Unexpected, but legitimate and early on his mother's favorite. His brothers Gregor and Nikolas were always busy with their lessons and training and young Adam was always left alone. And Queen Moira, being the nurturer she was took little Adam under her wing and put him through her own courses. Putting etiquette and artistic training above "sword and sweating" as she called it. Though he still attended those lessons, he spent more time learning to be a gentleman than a general.

He carried on like this for years and he became quite good at everything he was taught. But unlike his brothers he had no greater purpose beyond being another Courtier. Gregor would be the King and Nikolas was the leader of the Royal Guards. Adam had no purpose, he was the mistake. It haunted him, but one thing that kept him going were the tales of Dagur Harken. A son like him forced to away from his intended life to find his own destiny. As a boy these tales were what kept him going and honestly saved him from going the route of most third sons of being a drunkard or womanizer.

And when he reached the age of twenty the plan formulated in his mind. Taking a page from Dagur's book. He grew his hair out and vanished from the castle, he joined the Rogue's Gallery and have been with them for ten years quietly earning a name for himself and doing his damnedest to keep his identity a secret.

Other:

Broken Jaw

In yet another seedy tavern looking for yet another rival treasure hunter moving in on the Gallery's territory. Adam has lost track of how many of these leg breaking jobs he's done over the years. Too damn many probably.

Still at least he got to drink on the company's coin instead of his own. Seated in the far corner Adam Oakland was wearing a heavy cloak over his usual clothes. He rarely brought his full armor on jobs like this it made too much noise and gave him away. All he had was his sword and his wits usually all he needs. But tonight he'd kill for someone around to talk or a map to where his target's house was. All he had was a name Vimier Griex, and the location of the Gray Noose Tavern where the low-end thug hung out. He was a brute, a predictable one.

Though predictable didn't seem to mean punctual. Adam was on his fourth or fifth pint and this bastard still wasn't here. Any longer and he'd just take the lose and go home, the longer he hung around the more likely someone would take notice of him and that meant someone might recognize him. He was already getting looks, luckily though Vimier finally showed up. Already in a drunken stupor, this should be easy. Finishing his drink the merc quickly stood up from his spot and made a beeline towards the target. He had a few quips and good sucker punch ready, and just as he got within range and opened to mouth to speak a large fist flew out and clocked him across the left side of his face. Stumbled back the man rubbed feeling the bone and cartilage crunch lightly. Vimier had just broken the jaw of a Prince of the Dominion, Adam wondered what torture would be within his right to do as punishment, but carrying this fat fuck back to the Dominion for torture wouldn't be worth the bother of explaining where he's been. He's seen the missing posters and scared off a lot of bounty hunters to keep this game going. So with a pained sigh Adam grabbed a nearby chair and swung it up in a large arch sending Vimier stumbling backwards and out a window.

The man placed a small pile of coins on the counter for the shocked bartender to use to pay the window then grumbled and walked outside hauling his catch up and onto the back of his albino elk before mounting up and riding back towards Balefire to collect.

Volare Ice-Shield

Name: Volare Ice-Shield
Age: 400
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and/or description):

Volare

A sturdy 6'9 weighing 260lbs of heavy muscle. His skin is a very pale blue and covered in various kinds of scars and healed wounds. His hair is thick and white as snow and his eyes are the crisp color of a blue ice glacier.

When not in combat he is usually dressed in warm clothing made of fine studded leather.

Race: Snow Elf

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4):

Blood of the North: Being a Snow Elf, Volare has an enhanced physicality compared to many Elves. He is stronger, tougher, and more resistant to extreme cold.

Keen Sight: Like all Elves, Volare has keen eyesight.

Keen Hearing: He has very good hearing and can even distinguish some sounds among many others.

Warrior's Wisdom: From centuries of warfare and leading the Elite Guard of the Snow Elf High Chief. Volare is deeply steeped and experienced in all forms of combat, tactics, and weaponry.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Captain of the Guard: Aside from the martial prowess born from his station Volare knows the laws of Avelar by heart along with each races own laws. He also has a working knowledge of the laws in the other nations.

Two-Handed skill: Volare's choice of weapon is a two handed greatsword and he is a master of it's use.

Spearman: When a sword just won't do Volare is very skill with spears and polearms.

Archer: A skill every Snow Elf warrior learns he's a skilled bowman.

Farmer: A skill he learned on his own he is a good farmer.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons): The greatsword in the image, a large Snow Elf bow with 30 arrows, and a wicked looking hunting knife.


Armor(one sensible suit of armor): The hefty armor in the image.

Equipment: Fire making tools, spare clothes, dried food, weapon maintenance kits, water skin, a compass, and arrow making tools.

Personality: Volare is a wise old man wrapped up in the body of a life long warrior. He is stern, but not inflexible. Many could call him grim or stoic, but mostly Volare is just tired. He's been looking forward to retiring for years. Though an old war hound is still a war hound and his warrior's honor keeps him from growing complacent or lazy so if he's not training he working.

Likes: Peace, training, nature, the snow, farming and good warm mead.
Dislikes: Excessive noise, laziness, the rain, fighting, and arrogance.

Background: Born the second son of the Ice-Shield brood, but he didn't stay that way for long. His elder brother Viggo was more than a two decades older and by the time Volare was born Viggo was a celebrated warrior who sadly died in one of the last skirmishes of the Diamond Wars between Elves and Dwarves. From then on it was just Volare and his younger brother Vladimir representing house Ice-Shield.

Volare was the warrior and Vlad the rogue, each sprinted down their chosen path, but only Volare remained. When Vlad came of age he took work in a mercenary band and was never seen in Snow Elf lands again. Last he family knew he was still alive, but that's it. So with all the hopes and dreams of his family upon his broad shoulders Volare grew strong and grew quickly. Starting his life in the Chief's Guard at the tender young age of eighteen and spending well over two centuries serving before he was promoted to Captain and learned first hand how heavy the yoke of leadership is.

His first year he lost half his squad to a rogue band of Ogres. It was such a freak accident he wasn't even punished for it. Ogres never group up many thing it was some kind of magic plot set against the Snow Chief. But the deaths of his men still haunted him and the very next day he doubled his own efforts as well as the efforts of his remaining soldiers then hunted down the Ogres slaying them to the last. And with that victory his name grew, but with fame comes weariness so on the eve of his 400th birthday he announced his retirement. The Snow Chief agreed and set his trusted Captain up with a decent sized farm just on the borders of Avelar and the White Peaks. He was content but once word reached him of the Snow Chief's errant daughter killing her husband and being exiled reaching his ears he knew his peace was at an end.

Other: While never wed he has had many female Elves in his bed over the years.

Leo Swiftpaw

Name: Leo "Wallop the Cat" Swiftpaw
Age: 46
Gender(m/f): Male
Appearance(pic and description):

Wallop

7 foot even 500lbs of furious muscle dressed in brown cargo pants and no shirt usually. Because of his massive shame he was stripped of his honors(the jewelry and all in the pic) Each piece represented an accomplishment he had earned from back on Skillio and top be stripped of every one means he is no better than a newborn cub among his people. And it rippled out to his family many of them losing honors they earned with his help. Through the years Wallop has collected an impressive array of scars and wounds and each one is marked by a patch of lighter fur giving him an overall gray appearance and thanks to an unfortunate sequence of events Leo now sports a silver cybernetic right arm and leg leg.

Race: Formally Kessen, but presently a Cyborg
Job: First Mate

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4):

Perfect Night Vision: Like all cats Wallop can see perfectly well in darkness.

Superior Physical prowess: From a naturally physical race to a lifetime of fighting and training and now being a Cyborg, Leo is physically stronger, tougher and faster than a human and while Sharterrans are stronger Kessens are faster.

Claws and teeth: Having been born with a strong set of claws and teeth Leo has kept them sharp and ready.

Sense of smell: Leo can hunt and track with the best of the bloodhounds.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Grandmaster: A premier Martial Artist and once a universally revered fighter. Leo Swiftpaw has mastered Martial Arts from all corners of existence. Even in his middle age he is one of the few recognized Grandmasters in the known universe.

Gunner: For when punching things doesn't work Leo is also a skilled gunman skilled in using both rifles and pistols.

Survivor: A skill known to all Hunters, Soldiers, and Scouts, Wallop can live through many harsh conditions.

Teacher: A skill learned later in life Leo has the patience and wisdom to teach even the most stubborn of students.

Balance: From years of delving to the deepest ends of the Martial Arts Leo has gained control of the insanity that plagued him in his youth and dedicates much of his waking hours to maintaining a calm and collected demeanor.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Body: While not normally considered a weapon in Leo's case his body really is one.

Silver Blaze: A particle rifle capable of firing both highly charged bolts of Plasma Energy and Plasma grenades. Both can obliterate most kinds of unarmored or energy armored opponents. But enemies with high-end composite armor that protect against both energy and ballistic damage can survive because this gun is made for fighting force fields.

Lone Star Revolver: An old school design capable of firing ballistic rounds enhanced with slightly corrosive properties. Looks like an old Terra Colt Peacekeeper, but with green lights along the barrel.


Armor(one sensible suit of armor): In his life armor has always been an optional choice, but when he's needed it he prefers a suit of lightweight polymer/leather that doesn't hinder his speed or movement. It offers decent protection against most ballistic and energy weapons, but won't hold up to a heavy assault.

Augs(Limit of 3):

SaberKat Cybernetic right arm: From a cybernetic company founded by big cat people for big cat people the SaberKat cybernetic arm replaced Leo's lost arm from a Thantoscale attack. Many of his rivals have tried to use the arm against him being named a Grandmaster, but this is one of the unpowered models it simply gives Leo a right arm again and he's proven time and again that his natural left arm is just as tough and power as his cybernetic right.

SaberKat Cybernetic left leg: Like his right arm his leg is the same unpowered model from the SaberKat company. Simply returning to him the leg he lost evading a relentless merc company on Norvos.

Personality: Wallop is a keen Scout/Tracker/Hunter and unhinged from his accident, but he's kind enough and not someone you'd expect to be a murderer. But underneath his relaxed demeanor is the heart of his savage people. Through the years this has been proven true many times over, but through the course of his training Leo has mellowed out and gained a serenity about him. Nothing seems to phase him even when he's staring death in the face.

Likes: Fresh meat, meditating, fighting, females, and nature.
Dislikes: Sweets, alcohol, young males, cities, and birds.

Background

Born in the northern part of his home planet of Skillio he lived as a simple hunter for many years right up until he reached the age of 16 and his family had fallen on hard times. The prey were growing scarce and his family were commoners for the most part so they were forced to leave the planet, his people were relatively new to planet earth and not all that well liked for their superiority to humans. But it was just this quality that made them such great soldiers. They were distinguished in many of the world's wars and Leo himself served in the second and third great uprising of Mexico where he won the Purple Heart. During his third tour in the Mexican Uprising the truck he was riding on went over a small IED, and while his size saved him from dying, it still launched him off his feet and made him collide into a building cracking his skull. Once more his race's size and strength saved him from death, but not without giving him a slightly damaged sanity. He was moved to the Rear and has been stuck there ever since, to keep himself active and busy he turned to the Combatives he learned healing up and became the head instructor of the 1025th Infantry Battalion moving from unit to unit teaching them.

Eventually he found himself in a unit where Kessens were more scarce than usual and the humans really didn't like them and it was just this prejudice that lost him his rank of Sergeant First Class and landed him in the Exo-Terrestrial Super Max Prison where aliens like him were sent when they proved too dangerous for the normal prisons. The story behind his fall from grace started in an on-base park at a party. He never drinks but everyone else does and as anyone can tell you, military personnel and alcohol don't usually mix well. Leo was always the biggest guy in his unit, but the younger enlisted were always looking to make their name and would mess with him trying to get the "kitty to  hiss" usually the Officers put an end to it but this time they were all  gone and the game continued this time they didn't stop at him threatening them. He was about to walk away when one of them threw a bottle at his head drawing blood, now for those who don't know, a Kessen seeing blood is worse than kicking a bull in the face. He blacked out when he awoke he found himself in the base's jail with blood in his fur and the strongest handcuffs they could find binding him along with six heavily armed guards watching his every move. His discharge hearing was a formality, he did found out what he did he killed his tormentors with his bare claws and ate part of them. He could play the insanity card but it would set a precedence for his people and he didn't want to be that guy. He got the death sentence and a dishonorable discharge. Because of that  if he ever got pardoned he'd be forced to be some kind of assassin or bodyguard for some sleazy crime lord. But when he got word of Major Coldwall's mission he hoped and prayed to Fangrex he'd get picked. Redemption like this will save his family's honor as well as his own.

The Redemption by the gun program proved a rousing success and after running with the Major and his Suicide Unit for a few years Leo had earned his reputation back, but in the course of that run he had become a cyborg and the Kessen government is still catching up with technology and cyborgs were looked down upon as lesser beings still. So after living most of his adult life with prejudice Leo chose not to deal with it at home. Following the advice of the Major, Wallop became like the wandering warriors from the old Terra vids. Following the path of those Martial Artists, Leo Swiftpaw spent decades learning every fighting style he came across mastering many at a time until he earned the title of Grandmaster.

In that time he has trained many students, Dar-Jeela was one and in her he found one of his most dedicated pupils. She was strong, smart, and almost as quick as Leo, they trained day and night and Jeela accompanied the old cat on many of his journeys through the cosmos learning new fighting styles. By the end of their time together Jeela could almost qualify as a Master, but she was a prizefighter and the money and fame pulled her off the Master's path. Leo was disappointed in that, but everyone has their own destiny. They parted as friends, but Leo enjoys teasing the young woman about it whenever they see each other. Now in his mid forties Leo has reached the pinnacle of his journey, and with policies changing on Skillio and for the Kessen people he contemplates returning home.

Other

The wind whispered through the round green hills of Dorcha a 'chala. The newest planet to be founded in the Zeta Quadrant...or refounded if you speak with the reptilian natives and listen to their creation stories. As one of the few pioneers to care enough to ask Wallop the Cat has listened to their stories and found them deeply compelling. Hurlords terraformed Dark Harbor (as the layman calls it) and left the Guida here to protect and nurture the planet until the Hurlords returned.

This was from what Wallop and the other pioneers could guess over one hundred million years ago. Historians need to confirm this theory first, but if it proves true then it would make the Guida one of the oldest and most unchanged races in the Alliance. They have existed as a tribal society from their inception and thanks to the isolation of the Zeta Quadrant they have been allowed to grow to a state of total oneness with their planet. Natural mutations spurring them towards a harmony with their environment. Able to change their skin color to be completely invisible, throw sharp poisoned quills from their bodies, and have a type of earth sense that allows them to feel vibrations in the ground and react accordingly. Those abilities were likely the only thing that saved the Guida from going the way of countless other primitive races the dark realities of past planet rushes have wiped out.
Leo has unfortunately been present for a number of these extinctions, he fought as much as he could to stem the tide, but he was only one Kessen and of a very unpopular opinion. Resources were all most Planet Rushers cared about, making the quickest and most sustainable buck they can.

It is a troubling truth to be sure, but this time would be different Wallop could tell. He was on the first shuttle that landed six months ago and with only twelve passengers it wasn't hard to convince them to play nice, but each day more shuttles arrive and it has become harder and harder to keep everyone playing nice. More space is needed, more farmland needs making, and more land is being taken from the Guida. Tempers are boiling up and things will come to a head eventually and then something Wallop has spent too much of his life engaging in will come...war.

Wolf

Name: Viker of the Highway Clan, but only his closest friends and family know that name
Superhero name & Nicknames His working name is Wolf, but most folks call him V.
Age: 28
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Occupation: Militiaman or Cape Killer, depending on who is paying him.


Physical Description: Not overly tall nor overly bulky. 5'10 and maybe 200 pounds and about twenty pounds of that comes from his augs. Pale skin with lines of cyberware running up and down all over his body. And while not huge he is still a very fit man with noticeable muscle. His hair and beard are naturally a whitish blue color and being he was born and raised a Nomad he just chalk that up to radiation exposure in the womb or something.

Distinguishing Features: Much about Wolf is distinct, his eyes have optic implants that turn them into white X's on a navy blue background. His head and body are covered in a teal colored geometric tattoos, they don't have much rhyme or reason, but he likes them. His joints all look mechanical as his augs cover his hands, arms, and his legs.
Face Claim: V from my Cyberpunk 2077 playthough.

Personality: Wolf is a very brusque and informal person. Nothing is sacred and no one is above his heckling and comments. Even if it means he's about to be melted into a pile of slag by an Omega with energy melting powers. Or making some angsty college students cry and gnash their teeth at him for telling them no. He revels in the chaos of living on the edge of the law and pushing his limits.

Witty: Having lived his entire life outside of society living off the land and fighting in a world city folk not matter what part of town they hail from can grasp. Wit, grit, and guns were his clans solution to any problem that faced them. This carried on to his reputation as a Merc, able to talk his way out of trouble if needed.

Reliably Honest: Lying has always been abhorrent to him. From childhood honesty has been the golden standard for his clan, even if the honesty hurts someone it'll always be better than a sweet lie.

Freedom Lover: To the point of getting into gunfights, over it. Wolf was raised with the motto. "I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." But where most people get lost is when he exercises his own right to say whatever he wants to whoever he wants and is willing to shoot someone over it if they try to stop him.

Distrust: While most people simply adopted the mistrust of authority, Wolf was born into it...molded by it. History has shown that big government has never been your friend. No matter the side or colors they flew above their court houses, once they start infringing on personal freedoms they are to be burned down. Even if they wore hero capes and shiny masks.

History: To know the history of Wolf, you first must know your American History. While the Clan has forgone surnames since the time of Black Diamond and his first terrorist attacks, as a young man Viker was always curious about where he came from. With help of the clan's historian he found documents of his family being part of the very first National Guard regiment organized on December 13th, 1636. They weren't actually called the National Guard until 1916, but their views have always been the same. Defend the homefront and their communities. The idea of the militia and family has always been at the forefront of his life, raised in what many would call an "antiquated or archaic" setting, Viker's home was the RV and Trailer parks his family and their friends frequented or some unclaimed wilderness underneath the eyes of authority and off the grid.

His grandfather and father, Amos and Fredrick were career serviceman having served in many of the US conflicts as members of the Guard and active Army. His grandmother and mother, Ruth and Delilah were career homemakers and teachers and on the road they often proved even more valuable than Amos and Fredrick. They were the Ward bosses of their growing family and many people went to them to help resolve issues rather than the stoic patriarchs. As the year grew on and the clan saw the obvious troubles on the horizons with supers bickering and governments trying to control them. Amos and Ruth took their group of friends( now numbering no less than fifty families)and vanished for the highway swearing off modern society. And despite the Clan not being united by a single religious belief or ethnic background people had started whispering about a cult of motorcycle riding hillbillies terrorizing innocent motorists for whatever crime they could think of right around the mid 2000s when Prime and the "super" supers made themselves known. Most called them saviors of mankind, but Amos on his deathbed from complications with some chemical he had been exposed to during Vietnam swore they would spell of fall of mankind reasoning that "gods have no reason to obey the laws of mortals." Ruth did her best to lead the Clan, but she followed her husband a few years later. As tensions ramped up across the world the Highway Clan stayed to themselves, purchasing some land in the Rockies and hunkering down waiting for the fallout. The kids of the Clan were trained and schooled by the adults who they called "The Elders" collectively. Learning their arithmetic and letters alongside being taught how to hunt rabbits and plant crops, they were people of land as well as the highway.

And right up until the Week of Disloyalty, on August 13th the rustic men and women of Highway Clan answered the call for militias to help the citizens caught between the madness of those in power. They fought anyone and everyone coming up with techniques to bring down supers and rioters alike. The methods were brutal but effective, Viker himself couldn't join the fight as he had broken his leg in a dirt bike accident a few weeks prior. And being one of the oldest "Younglings" left in the clan he was put in charge as even his mother the short and kind-hearted school teacher picked up a rifle and joined the muster.  They followed the conflicts through radios and television broadcasts, and each day when the names of the dead were listed more and more of his clan were being wiped out the family mourned howling like wolves into the unforgiving night. And when the day came that his mother and father's names blazed across the screen, Viker became not only the oldest among the younglings...but the oldest member of the Highway Clan entirely.

He was named Ward Boss that night and received his first augment Fortified Ankles that doubled his jumping ability. Bought with some of the money the Elders left for them. He still had to walk with a crutch for awhile, but as soon as he was mobile he set the remnants of the Highway Clan on a new path. They couldn't just wait for the idiots of the world to kill themselves and simply inherit what was left. No they had to return to society and help the idiots kill themselves faster so there would be some world left to inherit. Each taking on a similar animalistic name they carried on their parents fight from the very underbelly of the governments and supers. None of his clan were born superpowered, but their collective skills allowed them earn reputations and money to become as close as possible. Augments were the great equalizers, they didn't need to be born great, they grabbed the world and ripped it in half to earn greatness. But much blood was shed, his already decimated clan, was slowly whittled down to eight individuals. They became a pack, Wolf, Jackal, Coyote, Mutt, Hound, Fox, Hyena, and Pedigree (Wolf's full blooded sister). Each specialized in something, but were masters of themselves first and foremost, they sold the ancestral lands in the Rockies and used that money to establish themselves. Opening businesses and organizing people to watch each other's backs, their mistrust of authority and supers spread among their partners. "The skies have eyes and the walls have ears" is a common code phrase for them, and their base of operations is a bar called the Pound that Pedigree runs, her shrewd intellect and beauty being the perfect face of the unofficial group.  Like their parents before them, Pedigree was the brains and Wolf was the brawn and together they have been leading The Pack for four years.

Specialized Powers/Skills: Wolf is the high-end of the Beta Ranking, having no powers, but with a combination of being very skilled with all forms of weapons and combat and many types of high tech equipment he can hold his own against even Alpha level Supers. All his "powers" will be from Augs I'll list; their power will be leveled as Mark's. Like MK 3, MK 5, etc as he has upgraded them over the years.

Power 1: Fortified Ankles MK4: Allows him to jump up to twenty feet in the air from a standstill and decreases damage from the hard landing.
Power 2: Reinforced Tendons MK3: Doubles his running speed and decreases damage from hard landings further. Allowing him to land safely from a fifty foot drop.
Power 3: Subdermal Armor MK5: While not the same as being invincible, the armor makes his skin resistant to conventional rounds, basic energy rounds, and sharp weapons. Though some high-end energy weapons and enough blunt force trauma can still kill him.
Power 4: Gorilla Arms MK5: Triples his physical strength and adds a little extra armoring along his arms and shoulders.
Power 5: Bionic Joints MK4: Decrease recoil from weapons and allows him to absorb more jarring actions.
Power 6: Bionic Lungs MK3: Gives him more endurance, and allows him to filter out some chemicals and toxins.
Power 7: Eagle Optics MK4: Gives him the ability to scan people and objects and learn what he can about them as it is taped into several databases like the police departments and D.O.D. But to keep himself hidden he doesn't tap into heavily restricted or sealed files. But if it's public record he can see it.
Power 8: Titanium Bones MK3: Used for protecting his bones from the power of his own augs, but it still gives him more durability and decreases shock from impacts.[/list]

Skill 1: Cowboy: As much a skill set as a lifestyle. Wolf is a skilled gunman with rifles, shotguns and pistols.
Skill 2: Close Quarters Combatant: When he doesn't have a gun he usually has a knife or some other melee weapon at hand to use. Far from a samurai master, he can cause some damage with the right weapon.
Skill 3: Brawler: When a gun or knife isn't in his hand, his augmented arms and strength allow him to be just as lethal. Be it punching through a concrete wall or breaking someone's spine with one punch. He's not graceful or fancy, but damn is he effective in hand-to-hand.
Skill 4: Down and dirty fixer: Not a mechanic or an electrician, but he knows enough to keep things running if needed.
Skill 5: Road Warrior: Be it driving a truck real good while under fire or shooting a rifle while driving a motorcycle, Wolf is an aggressive and skilled driver.[/list]


Weapon Specialties: Wolf specializes in pistols, shotguns, and rifles. And while he owns a large number of guns that he can use depending on his mission at the time. The four weapons he is most likely to carry are as followed.

Fiery Blade: A three foot long blade made of high carbon steel that can run charged particles along the edge of the blade and add to it's cutting edge by melting the things it cuts.

Splattergun: A meaty Carnage combat shotgun wrapped in a cheerful yellow casing. Using it without augs is possible, but the recoil alone could break the shoulder of anyone else. Wolf loves it's sheer stopping power and ease of repairs and makes it his perfect get out of jail through the back wall card.

Black Death: A powerful and reliable M251 Ajax assault rifle. Used primarily by Collective security forces so you know it's a good choice. His personal one has a medium ranged scope attached to the top. He's also painted it black and drew some scary skulls onto it.

The Booya Gun: Wolf's favorite and his go-to weapon when things start getting troublesome. A modified RT-46 Burya revolver that not only requires augs to even lift and fire, but has been tweaked even further. It's standard four round cylinder was replaced with a single round that explodes on impact. The reload is slow and even with his augs, kicks like cyberpsycho mule, but he rarely needs more than a handful of rounds to win the day. People just looking at is usually enough to make them back down.

Costume Description:

Gold-tipped manganese steel boots: A pair of black and gold ankle boots that resist staining and are mildly flame retardant.

Heavy shock-absorbent jacket: His most defensive bit of clothing. Padded and set up with EMP dampening technology that helps him defend against his biggest weakness.

Reinforced synleather racers: Like his jacket the pants are reinforced and filled with EMP dampening technology and other kinds of armoring.

Titanium techgogs with tactical software: His most technologically advance and precious bit of equipment. It's one of a kind and would be an absolute pain to replace. Like his Eagle opitcs it enhances his vision, but the techgos go far beyond what his own eyes could do. They are custom made titanium and seal around his eyes blocking out things like CS gas and protects them from being damaged by bullets and other physical attacks, but they also have zoom and enhances capabilities, infrared sight, x-ray, night vision, ammo counter, and in depth read outs of people and things he scans.

Ultrathin composite-print solo shirt: More fashionable than defensive, the shirt still offers some EMP dampening features, though being short sleeved leaves his arms unprotected.

Gunslinger cowboy hat: Nothing fancy, but it's black and sexy looking.



O/Os: He's straight, virile, and loves most kinds of women. He loves giving and receiving oral, giving vaginal and anal sex as well as playing with breasts and doing many other fun things to them. He likes some BDSM stuff but, not in the extremes. He's got stamina and power in spades though, his nickname around some brothels is "jackhammer."

Yokun da Nukoy

Name : Yokun da Nukoy
Race: Human
Occupation: Drunken Boxer
Orientation: Straight
Ons : Women, confidence, busty girls, breeding, oral(giving and receiving) vaginal sex, tit jobs, romance, single partners.
Offs : Blood, gore, vomit, bathroom stuff,  traps, multiple partners, torture/punishment.
Favorite Mode of Attack:

The Drunken Fist: A state of being as much as a mode of attack. While inebriated Yokun throws a strong series of punches at his foes. Strong, but inaccurate while able to knock a full grown Orc on his ass tends to miss 2 out of 4 times.

The Light of day: The opposite of The Drunken Fist, The Light of day is another series of punches, but while quick and accurate, don't do as much damage as the Drunken Fist. While not able to knock a full grown Orc on his ass, can make him see stars.

Height : 5'10
Build : Swarthy and stout
Description : Yokun is like so many others that have spent most of their lives outside. Dark skin, short dark hair, and scarred like he spent most his life losing fights to tigers in the jungle. Has a pleasantly formed fighter's build chiseled, but not overly buff good for speed and taking hits. Hairy like a bear and hung like horse, Yokun is the type of man you have a questionable one-night stand with, but look forward to the next time.

Personality : Drunk and disorderly describes Yokun best, but it's mostly the booze that makes him so. When he is sober, he's quite the pleasant man and if you can abide the smell of alcohol he's a great friend to have at your back and a powerful lover to have in your bed. Always quick to start and usually end a fight Yokun is forever on the hunt for his elixir of life(any booze he can afford)

Story : While many men can be called drunks, Yokun has taken the word and turned it into it's own species of man. Born in some lush alpine forests far away from Amberdale. Yokun was raised in the Temple of the Drunken Fist. A small and reclusive conclave of drunken old men who learned a long time ago the benefits of drinking alcohol and fighting while drunk.

Now it takes many years to learn just the right amount of booze to ingest so you feel less pain, but can still fight quick and precisely like a sober man. Unfortunately though Yokun is not one of these men, sure he learned how to fight real good and how to brew his own alcohol should he need, but the destruction of the temple some five years back cut him off from learning the "just enough booze" parts of his training. So now he simply drinks until he can't see straight then goes to see about winning the pot in some underground fight club so he can find a room for the night, a woman for a day, and more booze for later. Soon his drunken misadventures brought him to Amberdale after he swiped the bag of some young buck talking with a pair of twins on the road there. His drunk senses aimed him towards the best bar in town and there he was drinking himself to sleep when word of adventure and riches came to his ears. He could use the money some riches would provide.

Hasher Wolfgrain

Name: Hasher Cagdon Wolfgrain
Wolf Name:  Savage"
Age: 25


Appearance:

Hair: Short, dark brown, never goes below his neck, but is wild and uncombed.


Body: 6'1, burly, his skin is deep brown from the constant exposure to sun. His outfit is that of a Mountain hermit, Deer skin shirt and jacket tanned and waterproofed, kilt with green, gray, and black colors adorning it, rabbit skin boots with the fur on the outside.

Eye Color: Fiery gold

Wolf Appearance: Pitch black fur, standing 5 feet from paw to shoulder, abnormally large paws often tinted with blood.


Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4)

Physically superior: Even by Lycan standards Hasher is stronger, faster, and more durable than most of his kind.

Senses: Like all Lycans his senses of smell, sight, and hearing are exceptionally keen.

Claws and teeth: Perpetually stuck in a state of half transformation, his claws and teeth are always present and ready to be used.

Rage: A genetic mutation, when under a great deal of stress or if he feels life is in immediate danger he can become enraged and unpredictable doubling all of his physical abilities until the rage or the danger passes.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Fighter: First and foremost, Hasher is skilled a kick boxer.

Hunter: One of his jobs is tracking down trouble makers and bringing them back to the Project.

Rifleman: A big fan of hunting rifles and blessed with a keen eye of accuracy.

Guard: Used primarily as security in the Silverlight Project he knows the inns and outs of industrial security including skills with handguns, tasers, and pepper spray.

Obedient but unbroken: Having accepted his fate a long time ago, Hasher knows how to listen to orders and execute them perfectly, but will never be broken and turned into a mindless dog like so many of his "siblings".

Equipment: Aside from the clothes on his back he only carries what he's needs to for a job.

Personality: Hasher's personality can best be described as "animal in a cage". He keeps to himself and does nothing more than what he has to survive. Living each moment as it comes to him, but behind it also a fatalist mentality. He knows his life is only as valuable as his Masters wish it to be. He just wishes they kill him sooner rather than later.

Likes: Being left alone, women, graphic novels.

Dislikes: Everything else about his life, but the rich and the more "successful experiments" hold a special place of hatred within him.


Bio: Hasher's life begins and ends with the Silverlight Project. His mother was kidnapped from a clan in the mountains. The young man never knew what became of them, as his mother's tongue was removed before he was born. She raised him as best as she could, but like most female Lycans she was subjected to horrors no one should have to endure.

But endured she did, right up until he killed a young wizard who was trying to force himself upon her. Hasher even as a child was strong and violent, he ripped the wizard's throat out by his teeth and by rights he should've died that night instead of his mother. But the guards that pulled him off the young wizard saw his power and convinced the Council that it would be a waste of an asset so instead they just killed his mother in front of him as his only warning. And it worked...kind of.

While he never openly attacked another wizard, he didn't get on his knees for any of them either. The Captain of the Guard became like a father to him, but even that didn't save the young Lycan from enduing his own trials and punishments until they had sculpted him into a killing machine. Now he's reached the age where he is to be let out into the compound on bigger and more important jobs. It's a taste of freedom, but one that still turns to ash in his mouth when he thinks about what he could've had in the mountains. A father, a mother, perhaps real siblings and elders to teach him and support him. But he keeps those thoughts to himself, the Wizard's don't like Failures that think too much.

Other: Having been raised among other "Useful Failures" both male and female he's shared warmth with some of the girls on cold nights.

Constable of the Grey Cousland

Name: Zadkiel Cousland
Race: Human
Age: 35
       
Gender(M or F): Male
P.o.B: Vigil's Keep, Amaranthine, Fereldon
Side: Warden-Constable of the Grey Wardens

Class: Warrior
Specialization: Champion

Skills(limit of 4)

Champion: A leader on and off the battlefield, Zad leads from the front and has a keen mind for tactics and keeping his comrades ready for battle.

Swordsmen: His preferred skill, Zadkiel is one of the best sword fighters in the present Grey Warden's ranks. Able to duel-wield as well as he fights with a sword and shield.

Boxer: When without weapons Zad is a proficient fist fighter although he lacks real finesse.

Shield Wall: His specialization gives him great skill with shield combat able to defend and skillfully fight with it.

Spells(Mage only, limit of 3): N/A

Appearance(pic or description): 

Zadkiel

Zadkiel is a man of average height but stout build, his eyes are a deep brown and they always seem to glow with a powerful will.

Weapons(limit of 2, pic or description): The two swords in the pic and a shield
Armor(limit of 1, pic or description): The armor in the pic it's made of a high-grade Red Steel.

Equipment(pic or description): Zad carries the usual fire making tools, five Health Potions, and weapons maintenance kits.

Runes: His primary sword in his left hand has an Expert level Silverite rune and his shield has a Journeyman Barrier Rune.
       
Personality: Zadkiel is a very determined and collected man, he has an almost unbending sense of honor towards everyone and everything. Even his enemies are subject to it, though usually only goes as far as giving them a quick death.

Background:

A direct descendant of the first Warden-Commander of Vigil's Keep, Zadkiel cut his teeth on stories of his fantastical ancestor. How he and his fellow Grey Warden the late King Alistair survived the betrayal of Teyrn Loghain, assembled an army of epic proportions, and ended the Fifth Blight. That was not the end of it though, next his ancestor restored Vigil's Keep to it's former glory and beat back another Darkspawn incursion this one led by two separate entities warring for power.

Needless to say any and every Cousland after that man had much to live up to. Zadkiel and his father Raziel were no different, every day was training, education, and slowly perfecting their skills. But they can only do so much with Darkspawn being so scarce on the surface and the Deep Roads being too far away and too dangerous for an Arl to risk his life or the life of his only son in seeking out glory. While the older Warden was content to slowly wait for his Long Walk through the Deep Roads looking for a glorious death. This was unacceptable for the young Warrior, he couldn't stand just sitting around fighting shadows waiting for the Darkspawn to find another Archdemon which might not even happen in his lifetime. He desired nothing more than to lift the shield his ancestor used and cut a huge swath through the horde and emblazon his name across the stars. 

So just before he was to undergo the Joining at age eighteen he talked some of his fellow young soldiers into joining him in an adventure into an opening the Deep Roads he found one day while out training. Six of the young men went down into this pit and instantly found themselves in over their heads. Three of the boys were killed by a shower of Darkspawn arrows, the other three scattered into whatever little hole they could find. When the arrows stopped falling the Darkspawn sought them out and so began Zadkiel's first fight with the twisted monsters. He and his two remaining comrades managed to fight their way out of the Darkspawn ranks and ran for it, it was a direct affront to Zadkiel's personal honor and it would haunt him right up the day both his friends died from the Darkspawn's poisonous blood. Despite his best efforts to convince himself otherwise he knew all six of his friends' deaths were his fault. He had faced the punishment for taking them out as untrained as they all were but it was the actual looking in the face of the other young men that made the fact sink in. After that day he threw himself fully into the ways of honor and being the epitome of a leader. He even underwent the rigorous education needed to gain the Champion Specialization, he rebuilt his honor and will never let it go again. His honor is exactly what made him be the first volunteer to help the Elves of Endor out. Besides the Darkspawn vanished over two years ago and he was getting rusty he missed out on the Inquisition, but had been training himself far away in the mountains so it wasn't a totally wasted time.

Other:

The dawn broke over the mighty walls of Vigil's Keep. Home to the Ferelden Wardens, warriors extraordinaire and saviors of the Arl of Amaranthine. Guards both mundane and Warden initiates patrolled the ramparts. Darkspawn might be scarce, but bandits and pretentious Princes will never go extinct in Fereldon and the Keep was a shining jewel among the clouds and a magnet for fools looking to find glory.

Luckily most who come to Vigil's Keep aren't looking for trouble, just potential work as a guard or a maybe even a Warden. And right now one such recruit is in the training yard standing across the ring from the Constable of the Grey himself Zadkiel Cousland. The Recruit was solidly built youth with a square fresh face and short dark brown hair. His name was Issac and he was dressed in just a pair of boots and pants as he stretched with a heavy training hammer eyeing the Warden-Constable up. Zad was seated upon a hay bale a dull training sword hanging loosely from his fingers dressed in the same manner. A small smirk was on his face as he watched the young man pump himself up. It wasn't too long ago Zad was just like him, eager for a fight, willing to endure all kinds of pain just to prove himself the best.

Reality always has a way of putting the arrogant down though. One of the many hard lessons a man must learn before he can call himself done. Issac finished up his stretches and shouldered the heavy hammer walking to the middle of the ring bouncing lightly on his feet. Standing up Zadkiel spun the sword around his hand and joined Issac in the ring. The Senior Warden Xander would be reffing the match and determining the young man's worth to the Wardens.

The men squared off and with a nod Xander laid out the rules.
"Gentlemen, this is a match of points. You will be using safer training weapons, but they can still injure. First blood and the match is ended no winner, you need three points to win. One point for a strike to the legs or torso, two points for the head and three for disarming or simulating a kill shot. Understood?"

The two men nodded, then Xander continued.
"Alright go to your corners and come out swinging. Best of luck gentlemen." He waved the two men away then took his place out of the designated combat area and let out a shrill whistle. Issac let out a bellow and charged full into Zadkiel many of the older Wardens were seated on bench sipping ale and chuckling at the boy. He's already lost he just didn't know it yet. Zad smiled and engaged the youth. He easily ducked under the man's heavy overhead swing and landed the first hit his blade slapping Issac's shin making him stumble forward some.

"Point Zadkiel!" Shouted Xander.

Issac groaned lightly hopping on his good leg quickly locking onto Zad again. He expected an immediate follow-up strike, but the Warden was simply standing in a relaxed pose his sword's tip resting in the dirt.
"Don't rush headfirst into conflict young man, the Hurlocks are slightly stronger than an average man and bull rushing is their specialty."

Issac nodded he didn't expect to be getting free lessons from the Warden-Constable. But he wasn't some farmer who had picked up his first weapon a week ago. He has been a guard in Denerim for three years. He took the man's advice and changed up his strategy. He still charged, but feinted his next downward strike quickly changing it into a forward thrust of the hammer's head. This surprised Zad, but not enough to cost him a point, he dropped to the ground and rolled aside he clipped Issac's leg again before moving out of range.

"Point Zadkiel!" Xander announced again.

Issac growled feeling anger build up inside of him. He didn't give Zad a chance to recover he charged and unleashed a barrage of attacks. Zadkiel blocked each attack the smile slowly leaving his face as he danced around the ring. He watched Xander's face slacken in disappointment some at the young man, but Zad saw potential. Still this had to end, he skipped out of range again only this time he attack. Charge and nimbly ducking under Issac's guard he smashed the man in his stomach with the pommel of his sword then quickly aimed the the point under Issac's chin lifting his head and nodding.

"Killshot Zadkiel wins!" Xander shouted the other Wardens clapped for Zadkiel who lowered his blade and patted Issac on his shoulder. "You are strong Issac, but your temper will be your downfall if you cannot control it. Senior Warden Xander will work with you more, before we can let you do the Joining understood?"

Issac nodded bowing a little to Zadkiel.
"Yes Warden-Constable thank you."

Zad smiled and tossed the training blade to the Senior Warden before exiting the ring and gathering his clothing and normal weapons.

Rancor

Name: Rancor
Nickname: Night Angel
Age: Ageless

Gender: Male
Race: Fallen Angel

Appearance Description/Photograph:

Rancor

8 feet high and weighing 450 pounds. His wings are 15 feet long and 5 feet wide.

Orientation: Straight
Side: The Night

Element: Darkness

Abilities

Divine Physiology: His physical powers are well above those of a human.
Flight: Even with his eight wings cut down to two he can fly up to speeds of Mach 5.
Crystal Shard: His feathers can become like crystal and cut enemies as he flies or he can launch them out at people.
Crystal Blade: He can pluck a crystal feather off his wings and use it like a strong and sharp sword.

Power of Night: He can manipulate shadows and darkness to make weapons and armor.
Shard Shield: In times of need he can fold his wings  around him and create a strong shield but if his wings shatter or get  broken he can no longer fly.
Shadow Cloak: Using the shadows around him he can vanish from sight and reappear elsewhere.

Skills

Expert hand-to-hand combatant.
Skilled in the use of his wings to evade and attack.
Great experience and intellect.
Skilled in the use of melee weapons.
Good accuracy with his Crystal Shard power.
Very charismatic.
Skilled in espionage.

Weapon: The bladed gauntlets in the pic, his wings, and the Crystal swords.
Personality: He is a somber and serious being, rarely does he smile and  even more rarely does he laugh. He sees only the pitiful creatures that  were created inferior to him.

Brief History: Once he was the angel in charge of ushering the night and  lifting the moon to the sky. But as he grew older and his task became  more and more mundane. His goals moved from simply heralding the night  to ruling it, gaining a strong influence over the creatures of the night  and causing them to attack the "Day Walkers" as he called everyone  else. This is what caused him to be cast down from his perch and his  duty ripped from him. It wouldn't have bothered him much except a freak  of nature, he had the misfortune to call sibling was given his power and  duty. This was the last thing that pushed him to serve Mahvalli as the  Spymaster of his Army.

Other: Rancor has been around a long time and seen many lovers.

IN USE

Duke Solar

Name: Duke Solar
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Appearance(pic and description):

Duke

6'0 185 lbs, keeps his hair dyed green, and usually dressed in casual loose fitting clothes with plenty of pockets and a utility belt.

Race: Human
Job: Fugitive Hacker

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4):

Blend: Common within his race, Duke is very capable of blending in and adapting to most of his surroundings.

Adaptation: Throughout the centuries humans have been plagued with diseases, famine, and near total annihilation, their genetic coding took all of this into consideration and naturally adapted them to their surroundings, even as those surroundings changed.

Genius: Duke's intelligence is his greatest asset, he's never bothered to measure it, but the way he goes through Files and Electronics makes it obvious.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Technomancer: While not the real kind of magic, Duke calls his skills this because the way he works with all kinds of technology is quite magical.

Inventor: Not trusting the crap you can buy to not fall apart the second you get it. Duke builds almost all of his own gear and programs from the ground up. Makes his shit even harder to get into.

Circus Blade Performer: Before he stumbled upon his hacking skilz, he was in the circus as a knife and sword performer, as such he's a genuine master with knives and swords. Both fighting and throwing.

Runner: Years of keeping ahead of the law and never staying in one place for long have given the young man the build of a runner and the drive of a rabbit escaping ravenous dogs.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):
Mercury Energy Knife that can burn through metal surfaces with enough force.

Wasp Revolver fires quick painful bolts of plasma, but not the ebst for raw knock down power.

Cold Fusion Energy Sword Effective, but so expensive to use and recharge.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor):

Hacked Night Armor

A customized version of the Dominion Stealth armor it sacrifices some protection for giving him a fully integrated HUD that lets him remotely hack into tech within the range of his sensors.

Augs(Limit of 3):None

Personality: Duke's most upfront and unapologetic personality trait is his ego. He's cocky handsome, smart, skilled, and worst of all...he is well aware of how awesome he is. Thinking himself God's gift to women and the tech word. One redeemable quality though is he's a nose to the grind worker and refuses to stop until it's perfect. And his competitive streak forces him to come up with oftentimes unique ways to handle challenges.

Likes: Women, sex, technology, knives and swords, being the best, and being rich.
Dislikes: Sexual competition, low-tech, guns, being second, and being poor.

Background

Though the likelihood of getting the truth out of him is low and even less if you’re an attractive woman, Duke's life is about as far from what you'd expect as you can get. You'd expect him to have been an orphan running around the trash-clogged streets of some Dominion Mega City. Living by his wits and only worrying about where his next meal is coming from and where can he hunker down for a few hours of sleep before diving back into the dredges of humanity.

But as much as he would love to deny it Duke was born in a small frontier town at the edge  of the Dominion's reach, and he was born into a traveling circus. The Dusty Boot Troupe as they called themselves, it was a small family owned and operated organization. They had a Lion(Cougar) Tamer, Clowns, various kinds of Acrobats, and an old Crotchety Knife Thrower, with a young and impressive kid who was on the fast track to replace the old  man. In reality this was Duke's Grandfather, Amos Runner. Duke was the youngest cousin and an only child, and with his parents running the circus, the young man found himself under his Grandfather's stern eye more than anything else.

It wasn't an altogether bad life, but boring and frustrating for young man with a Genius IQ. He got into a lot of trouble growing up, fights, fooling with young girls, and cheating the law. It was after one such dalliance that he was taken off the bleachers and into the Ring. Seeing it as a way to get his gifts focused in a positive direction, this led even deeper into Grandpa  Amos's wiry strong arms. Woken up on the dawn of his 10th birthday young Duke began his training as a Blade Trickster. Amos was given free reign over how to teach the boy, much to the kid's pain and annoyance. This meant military style Physical Training and the law of the switch. It was rough, but eventually Duke saw the positive side of this he was getting strong and damn good looking, and he was leaning how to kill someone in the most badass ways.

His already booming confidence skyrocketed with the success of his first act even if it was just assisting his Grandfather. Seeing a way to make some easy money and be every level of  badass, Duke truly dedicated himself to learning the art of Knives and Swords. Once he set his mind to it, he quickly became the star of the circus. Thinking his evil ways were truly gone, the family went back to happily looking the other way. But while he's never been malicious he had plans that were..less than savory all in the name of being the best.
Using the money he was earning in the circus, he began building his impressive arsenal of tech and using his natural skill at the hacker lifestyle he began tackling whatever system thought it was better than him, breaking in and taking money, hacking private nudy pics and sending them all across the web. The usual stuff snot-nosed 14 year old Geniuses did, no one knew about it and even when his family found random amounts of money dropped into their accounts with no trace of where it came from.

This continued right up until he bit off more than he could chew at 18, with every system on the planet and many of the neighboring planets his bitch he was looking farther for even more challenges. And he found it in a Skorne outpost located on a nearby moon, now the Skorne are the most technologically advanced race in this part of the Universe and many other parts of it as well. No one has been able to hack into their systems, many have tried and some have even come close, but each attempt ended the same way. Their gear got fried and a Skorne hit squad was on its way to the Hacker's Door to arrest and more than likely kill them once they got into Skorne Territory. 
Successfully hacking into their shit would make you a fucking legend and you'd have bitches lining up at your door for a fucking chance to get into your bed. That was motivation enough for the young Genius, it took him weeks to even get to the front door of the Skorne Network, but once he got there he knew it was a race against time before the Skorne Tech Ops sniffed him out and took him out. Duke had never felt a thrill like this ever before, sure he's come up against networks he couldn't take down. But never has the thrill of death been this close.

The furthest anyone has gotten was to the second firewall that surrounds the outer limits of the network itself. Duke planned to get past that and rape his way all the way to the heart of the Virgin Skorne Network. Days went by and he slowly chipped away the 7 million veils, his shows went on without him and he could almost taste the last of the cyber defenses falling before he reached the record. Fate was not for young Duke this day though, an inch from breaking the record his system froze and a message scrawled across the screen.

"YOU ARE CAUGHT, IN THE NAME OF THE SKORNE EMPIRE! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST!" Letting them fry his gear was hard, but it had to be done. Besides he covered his tracks well enough that they'd only come after him and leave his family alone. Grabbing what money and stuff he could and his favorite knife (the Mercury Energy Knife he'd saved up for) he jumped the next vessel off his home planet not even bothering to tell his family goodbye. He began the life he'd always liked to brag about, a refugee living by his wits and skill. From 18 to 25 he lived like this, banging bitches when he could, rebuilding his gear, and dodging Skorne hit-squads. It was during this life when he came across the Black Star Privateers and a chick he's wanted to bang since he crossed cyber-swords with her a few years back. Ekaterina Caiven Rovitz, she would be his crowning jewel, and after he knocked out his competition he joined the crew and began his plans to win her.

IN USE

Captain Sebastian Grimm

Name: Sebastian Grimm
Race: Human
Age: 32

Gender(M or F): Male
P.o.B: Kirkwall, Free Marches
Job: Captain of the Pirate ship, the Wave Marcher.

Class: Warrior
Specialization: Swashbuckler

Natural abilities

Tough Bastard: Captain Grimm is one of the toughest bastards on the crew. He's lived through more horrors than even some of the more fantastical crewmembers can brag about.

Quick mind, quick hands: Living by the skin of your teeth and the strength of your arm gives you a certain level of wit and agility. Sebastian has taken this aspect and took it as high as he physically can.

Skills

Leader: From running an urchin gang in Kirkwall, to fighting in a war for some puffed Wizard who didn't like how another puffed up Wizard looked, to taking over the Wave Marcher from the old Captain and leading the wild crew. Grimm knows how to lead and knows how to listen.

Sailor: As good at steering as he is swimming or running through the ropes. Sebastian knows his ship and sometimes takes over for some of the tired crewmates.

Fighter: Having learned you need to fight to survive Captain Grimm is a good fighter having long training in ranged, melee and fist fighting.

Charm: A charming man known for his love of women as much as he is known for being such a good pirate.

Appearance(pic or description)

Captain Grimm

Captain Grimm is a stout man of above average height. 6 foot even and weighing a muscular 200 pounds from a hard life on the hard streets of Kirkwall in the Free Marches and fighting armies across the globe. If scars could speak Sebastian would never need to utter a word.

His skin is rough and tanned from rarely knowing a roof over his head or most forms of luxury. His eyes are the dark blue of the clear night sky, his clothing is generally the above, but he has been known to go shirtless or dress up for meetings with finer company. And of course he has a long gray captain's coat.

As respectable as he can dress Sebastian's real appeal is the large myriad of scars and worn over wounds that cover his body from head to toe. Magic spells injuries, blade wounds, severe burns, each one looking like it should've killed him, but somehow Captain Grimm has lived through it all.

Weapons(limit of 2, pic or description)

Master craft Cutlass: The sword he was given by his old Captain, it's a wonderfully made weapon from star metal.

Sling and stone: His favored ranged weapon is a tough elastic leather strap he flings smooth and extremely hard river stones from with deadly skill.

Armor(limit of 1, pic or description): None

Equipment(pic or description): When he has to walk on land he carries firemaking tools, water, some dried meat, spare clothes, and a sharpening stone.

Runes: A single rune of Devastation on his cutlass.

Personality: Captain Grimm is a man of well-placed confidence and the passion brought on by cheating death and never really knowing when his number was about to be called. He tries to live his life to the fullest he can each day. But one cannot play all day when lives are on the line. Reality has taught him this lesson at some grave cost. Though reluctant most times, he takes his job seriously and knows the crew sometimes needs a leader more than it needs a friend.

Background

Like many kids running around the slums of Kirkwall, Sebastian was an orphan with only the Grimm surname to go by for ancestry. Spending his days thieving and his nights hiding from the law and the kid snatchers who were always hunting for young bloods to sell or shanghai. Whether for soldiers, slaves, or sex, kids with no parents and no one else giving a damn about them were easy pickings for these soulless cads.

Many of them learned early on to rely only on themselves and whatever friends they had managed to make. Street gangs formed shortly after and they began to take over the dirty streets. Sebastian was in one such gang, they called themselves the Dawn Street Guild and made existence possible for their fellow children. Sheltering the young ones, protecting the weak ones, and keeping the pretty ones out of the Snatchers' hands. He joined them young and was just a messenger going between their bases and those that gave them jobs for food that day, but as he aged his natural leadership and almost otherworldly toughness preceded his somewhat mundane appearance. Surviving a great fall from the roof of a horse stable, living through a Snatcher's blade plunging into his thigh, suffering a fireball to the chest. Nothing seemed to stop the young orphan and when he grew big enough to challenge the leader of his little gang, half the battle was won when Sebastian pulled his shirt off showing a lean body with scars and bruises peppering the young flesh. After that is was just a case of making the old boss trip over himself and fall off the roof where their base was set up.

That was the first day of a life of running, fighting, and killing. Under his rule the little gang turned into an actual Thieves Guild, while they kept their original name they didn't need to steal to eat...no they lived to steal! Good food, a warm base, and even some recruitment areas to bring in fresh blood. While they still plied their skills towards saving kids other operations began to take precedence. Eventually they got too big for their britches and brought on a Street Gang's worst nightmare...Guards recruiting for the military. Unlike most other places "recruiting" in Kirkwall was more being forced into service at the tip of a blade. The Dawn Street Guild was destroyed and many of the free spirited members were killed before they could be drafted. Sebastian wasn't as lucky, he fought the Guards and took a few wounds, but nothing killed him, they just took the wind out of his sails and allowed someone to knock him out from behind.
He awoke an untold amount of time later in the stinking cargo-hold of a swaying ship, he was surrounded by young men and women around his age. Many of the girls were pretty, but no one seemed to notice. He knew some of them and the meek listless eyes were very far from what they normally were. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he noticed everyone even himself were wearing strange runic collars. Upon becoming fully awake he felt it's effects immediately. His mind was going fuzzy and gray, the shapes of his fellow captives became amorphous blobs, he was now a private in Lord Malkor's army.

His military career was much like that first day, a blur of pain, darkness, and blood. Eventually they removed the collars so soldiers could be smarter and more likely to win. But many spirits were already broken from the rigorous training so they were listless husks for life. Sebastian was for a time, but eventually he found his personality again. He played the drone for eight years, learning the skills, winning the wars, killing the other guy. But at twenty-five he was done with it, he'd collected more scars and extended his rep at being one tough S.O.B and that was enough for him, he killed his C.O. and ran into the sea never looking back. Five more years followed and in that time he eventually found himself in the good graces of one Captain Hilgard of the Wave Marcher. He'd joined the crew as a spotter, but quickly won the trust and some might say favor of the grizzled old seadog. It wasn't often old Captain Hilgard met someone as tough as him, but he found that kindred spirit in young Sebastian. They would drink for hours into the night and compare wounds and war stories, the younger sailor was happy for a change. But happiness is momentary, because Captain Hilgard was reaching the end of his life and a successor was needed. At first many of the crew, Grimm included, figured it would be his daughter Brigett. She was being trained for it and she had the tough iron fisted personality a good Captain needed.

This is why it was such a big surprise when Sebastian was given the old man's coat and sword. He accepted of course, but Brigett was pissed and promptly left the crew after her father's death. So after getting over losing that wonderful ass and fun sex he and Brigiett had he found some new crew and called them Grimm's Reapers. Cast off wretches, former soldiers, anyone he thought would help his crew be the best of the best.

Other: Captain Grimm is like any Pirate, he loves women and he loves being with women. But he's too wild for a solid relationship.

Chief Thorg Whitegale of the Twister Clan

Name: Thorg Whitegale of the Twister Clan
Age: 40
Gender(m/f):Male
Role: Chief


Clan: Twister
Element: Wind
Elemental Abilities(limit of 4)

Vortex: Using long tendrils of Mana, Thorg can spin his arms and body around and create a powerful and damaging twister that can knock enemies down, throw them away, and send ships off their flight plans.

Wind Punch: Summoning a dense column of wind behind him Thorg can use it like a battering ram and punch a hole through soft enemies or send armored ones off their feet. The bigger the enemy though or the quicker it's moving the more Mana it takes and once it's thrown he can't change it's direction.

Gusting Veil: Taking only a small amount of Mana, Chief Whitegale can create sandstorms or dirtstorms that can blind his foes.

Levitation: Throg has mastered a rare skill even among the Twister Clan. He can lift himself off the ground and actually fly across the earth without his feet even touching the ground. It has taken him twenty year to do so and he can't go much higher than five feet off the ground. But his speed is great and he can keep it going for ten minutes solid, but on minute eleven he'd drop like a rock and be good as dead.


Secondary Element Ability(optional): Light.

Whitegale: This is his most respected skill and his namesake upon being named Chief of the Twister Clan as a young man. Using a massive dose of Mana he can create a chaotic shield of white wind around himself and others that protects from even Skorne Lasers. But it requires an equally massive dose of Mana to keep it going so it can quickly kill him.


Appearance and clothing(pic and/or description):

Chief Whitegale

A powerful man, 5'11 in height with 210 pounds of thick rolling muscle. Despite being what could be considered old age in this age Thorg dedicates himself to keeping his body and mind fit. Being able to routinely match many of the remaining young warriors in his clan and overcome them.

His hair is thick and brown, but has streaks of gray going across his entire scalp. His eyes...well his good eye is an intimidating gray, but his left eyes is clouded white from an old injury from before the Skorne invasion. With scars a plenty to display Thorg can usually be found wearing a vest and trouser made of raptor feathers or armor made from the hide of a Brontosaurus glazed with amber. Like many of his clan he goes barefoot though unless the ground dictates otherwise across his back is a large tattoo in the shape of a Twister.

Weapons (limit of 3): Thorg carries three weapons with him at all times.

Stone Axe: The weapon in the picture, it's a heavy tool, but his years of training with have given him more than enough skill to make up for it's weight.

Obsidian machete: His most prized weapon, it was gift given him by the last Chief of the Blaze Clan. He had saved the man's life only to have him lose it a moonstime later. Thorg had much respect for the man and keeps this blade close at all times to remember his friend by.

Sling and stones: While he has always been a bit to big and clumsy to master the elegance of the bow and arrow, his strong arm and one good eye make him quite deadly with this leather sling and the flat river stones he hurls from it.

Armor: Armor slows him down in normal life, but when going into a battle he knows will be bad he straps on a suit made of Brontohide that protects him from many melee attacks and has been known to shrug of glancing Skorne bolts.

Special Gear: He carries a pouch for his slingstones and keeps a firemaking kit on him for dark nights.


Combat Abilities(limit of 4)

Brute: Thorg is a strong and aggressive fighter. He crushes enemies under mighty blows from his club.

Slinger: The Chief is deadly accurate at short distance with his sling and with enough time he can adapt his single eye to kill at greater range.

Chain-fighter: Thorg has a skill for chaining many attacks together in a blurring dance of death. Once he is on a roll it is hard to stop his wild and powerful strikes.

Planner: While decent at making plans on the fly, he much prefers to have things planned out before an operation is set into motion.

Mundane Abilities(limit of 3):

Hunter: A prevalent skill among the Twisters, Whitegale is a fair hunter even if he and old Broketooth are sometimes too slow to catch everything.

Firemaker and cook: A skill he thinks everyone should have. Thorg is skilled firemaker and a decent cook.

Wind-talking: How the Twister Clan communicates with each other over a fair distance. Using their power over the wind they can send whispered messages between hunting parties and war parties. While the optimum distance is only 100 yards, with enough time this range can extend to over 300, but more often than not after the 100 mark the message becomes too quiet and muddled to be very useful.


Dino(pic and/or description): An Achillobator named Broketooth

Mana Cannon(y/n): No

Armor and special gear: Broketooth is an old dino, and not as fast as he once was he wears a sturdy cloak of bone and leather armor along with Thorg's saddle and cargo bags.
Abilities(limit of 4):

Runner: Despite his age Broketooth is a very fast mover. He can cover a lot of ground in not a lot of time, but he can't make as quick turns like he used to.

Hunter: Being one of nature's most perfect hunters, Broketooth lives up to every aspiration expected of an Achillobator. Hunting in packs, disabling before killing, and fighting for his prey.

Strong arms and claws: The perfect tools for hunting or war, Broketooth's arms and claws can latch onto and hold nearly anything.

Senses: While dulled somewhat by age, Broketooth still has keen senses which have saved not only his life, but the life of his Alpha.


Personality: Thorg is a man of the people. He's humble, compassionate, and loyal to his people and wife, children, and grandchildren. He sees himself as a symbol as well as Chief, he had to be tough, he had to be level-headed, he had to put the Clan before himself. And while he would never show it, he had a painful feeling of being a caged beast, dancing for the smiles and applause but secretly yearning for the freedom of being a normal hunter in his tribe. It's a feeling every Twister has, they are children of the Wind and the Wind never likes being restricted.

Dino Personality: Broketooth has more of a lazy cat personality, he doesn't do much unless he really wants to or Thorg compels him. Much of the old Dino's day is spent hunting small animals and warming up in the sun. Unless the Twister children are playing around him, then he's more like a dog though, always watching for danger.

History

Thorg was born during a time of peace for the Nature Lords. The Forest Protectors were far inland undergoing one of their religious pilgrimages, the Mountain Diggers were far underground following a vein of metal, and the Shadow Stalkers were sleeping in the dark tunnels abandoned by the Mountain Diggers. Many had said this peace would last for ever the former Chief included.

Thorg's early years only had the barest teachings any youth would get. How to hunt, how to gather, and how to ride. Actually learning to fight and survive were far from their minds and the minds of the Elders. This lackadaisical ideal life wasn't meant to last though, Thorg was turning ten when this happened. A large comet had crashed into the plains and sent up clouds of dust that brought darkness and cold that covered the land, normally the flat plains with very little cover were left alone by the Shadow Stalkers who can't stand the sun. But with the arrival of the the seemingly endless night came the monsters mothers tell their children about so they don't go exploring caves or dark places.

It was only the paranoia of the elders that saved them from total slaughter. Sentries saw shadows moving through the gloom and even managed to sound the alarm before the monsters tore them to bits. Already on edge the clan's few hunters and warriors were ready in seconds and charged out to meet the Stalkers. Thorg hid in his parents' hut, but could hear everything going on outside. The howling wind of the Twisters' attacks meeting the snarls and gnashing teeth of the bulky Shadows as they fought against the Wind. Hiding under the hides his father skinned a few days ago the young boy sat for hours listening to the carnage as it ripped through the camp. He must've fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes again there was a profound silence. At first he thought he must've gone deaf, he could only feel the pumping of his heart in his ears. But as he crawled out of his hiding place he heard the rustling of his clothing and the hides as he moved. Moving slower than he ever had Thorg eventually poked his head out and saw the bloody and smoking battlefield illuminated by the sun trying to penetrate the clouds and the dying bodies of cooking fires.

The smell of death was horrendous and every step squished underfoot. He saw many dead Twisters, but more dead Shadow Stalkers, this made the boy smile, but the smile left when he saw his mother among the dead. She had squared off with a Shadow Stalker and managed to cleave the monster with it's own obsidian blade. Tears trickled down his young face, but the firm hand of this father steeled him and from that day the young man took a keen interest in training himself to be a fighter of the people. And he wasn't alone, the remaining elders decided they must never be caught unprepared like this again and with the Chief's backing changed the whole Twister Clan around building Warriors Father Wind would be proud of. They trained themselves then went on a march eliminating threats they first thought to leave well enough alone. Stalker Hives, Forester traps, and troublesome dinosaurs who might see to make a meal out of the Clan.

It was on one of these extermination raids that Thorg found Broketooth. He was a young alpha filled with fire and piss. Each member of the raid had one dino to seek and kill, and Broketooth was for Thorg. He had already earned his place as a skilled warrior and this was to be his last test of manhood. The young raptor was ready to kill and Thorg was ready to win, using his magic he kept the wild claws at bay and eventually clubbed Broketooth upside the head knocking him out and giving him his name because the final blow broke a tooth on the left side of the Dino's muzzle. From then on they were a deadly duo quickly becoming the top warriors and when the former Chief was killed in a Forest Protector ambush they became the leaders of the Twister Clan. All the tender age of 25 and on his 30th birthday he led his clan through the first of the Skorne incursions. And on the fourth decade of his life he is leading the last of the Wind Clans working to ensure they stay alive long enough to rebuild.

Other

"But Grandfather! The boys get to go play! Why can't we?" Says a brown-haired young girl standing in the middle of a dirt circle dressed in a short leather top and loincloth holding a staff limply in her dirty hand. Next to her was a slightly older girl with blond hair with a small bra and loincloth, her staff was resting on her narrow shoulder this girl was rubbing her sore jaw slowly. Her whines were directed at a large man seated on the ground with his back against the feathery flank of a large raptor.

The dino rumbled lazily as the man slowly working himself up to his feet using a larger staff to aid him. As he reached his full height and stabbed the blunt weapon into the dirt the two girls dropped their eyes and shrunk back a little as if expecting him to yell. But he never did, this was Chief Thorg Whitegale and learned long ago the gift of silence and soft speaking.
"The boys did their training this morning whilst you and Breeze went down with the other girls to the swimming hole. Now it is your turn young Swiftcloud, straighten your back and return to your side of the ring. And Breeze the more you rub that the quicker it will swell up, use your greater height to keep Swift from getting past your defense. Remember how young Zephyr Wild-Gust dealt with Windstorm when she was being forced into marriage."

He smiled seeing the storm return to his two Granddaughters' eyes. Like many young girls in the Twister Clan these two idolized Zephyr. She was the great warrior queen big sister they all wanted especially when some boys got to being too big for their trousers. He has been doing what he can to keep infighting down, but it was a fine line to walk as Chief. You can't show more favor to one side over the other it was his teetering off that line that actually led to the debacle of Zephyr's marriage. The clan still had too few members and many girls were expected to find a husband and start forming families as soon as they were able which was thirteen years of life. After the fallout from that Thorg throttled back on the policy and let the young ones choose what to do. Some still married and became very good mothers and fathers, while others like Zephyr continued training to be warriors and hunters. The young girls returned to their sides of the training ring and stretched a little waiting for his command.

Crossing his arms he looked out across the camp to make sure no trouble was coming their way, before looking between his granddaughters and gave a short bark.
"Fight!"

Lord Ra-Ja of the Red Tooth Clan

Name: Lord Ra-Ja of the Red Tooth Clan
Age: 110
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Ra-Ja

One of the many tribes of a humanoid reptilian like race called the Dolg Gramar. Ra-Ja is rather impressive for one. He has dark olive skin full of smooth scales and long fangs and nails. Unlike the rest, he resembles a dragon, be it by the structure of his skull, or his golden eyes, it is a thing which is considered to be not only beautiful among his kind, but also somewhat majestic. He also have a strong long tail which he can use to fight or support himself. He is nearly 8 feet tall and weighs well over 600 pounds.

Race: Dolg Gramar
Occupation: Berserker and leader of the Red Tooth Clan


Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Animal Might: Ra-Ja is extremely strong, tough, quick, and his claws and teeth are very strong.

Amphibian: He is able the breath and move under water well.

Enhanced Senses: Ra-Ja has an excellent sense of smell, hearing, and sight.

Tail: The Berserker's tail is prehensile and very strong.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Berserker: Ra-Ja is a trained Berserker. As such he has control over his rage and can enter a state of mind that increase both his power and speed and make him highly resistant to pain. While injuries that make it past his Black Mythril armor can kill him, the pain they bring can be ignored while his Rage is peaked.

Heavy Warrior: Lord Ra-Ja is a master of Melee combat and of fighting in heavy armor. Two-handed swords are his forte.

Tactical: When not lost in the throes of rage, Ra-Ja is a tactician of great skill and renown. He is known for thinking outside of the box and surprising foes with unpredictable victory.

Control: Coming from years of being a Berserker and being a Lord of a Clan, Ra-Ja has a level of both physical and mental control that can rival many of the world's Martial Arts Masters.

Beast: When Ra-Ja needs to he can use his enhanced senses, teeth, claws, and tail to hunt down and fight his foes.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Death: A huge sword named Death, has a sentient Demonic Spirit of Wrath residing in the blade that is constantly trying to take over Ra-Ja's body.

Redemption: A Messer long sword taken from a battlefield long ago.


Armor(one sensible suit of armor): He is covered with dark armor from head to toe, yet his skull and tail are bare. The armor consists of a very strong Black Mythril which is not easily damaged.

Equipment: Ra-Ja doesn't carry much outside of his weapon and armor. But he has found a pair of bandannas and an iron cross that he gathered in his travels. The bandanas are tied around his biceps and the cross is around his neck.

Personality: Lord Ra-Ja is a savage warrior through and through, but he is noble about it. As much as his battle style is one without rules, he still respects the need of the weak to be on their feet before charging again. Even with his memories locked away from him Ra-Ja remembers the noble side that comes with being a leader. He will not strike those he views as weak, some would say this makes him arrogant and they wouldn't be wrong, but his arrogance doesn't carry over to enemies he sees as worthy. Those few get the full measure of his combat prowess. 

Likes: Red meat, fighting, winning, surviving, recovering his memories, and keeping Death at bay.
Dislikes: Being hungry, sitting still, losing, dying, never gaining his memories and losing his control over Death.

Background: With much of his memories stolen from him by some kind of black magic and Death's influence Ra-Ja only knows snippets of his past. He was a Lord of the Dolg Gramar, Chief of the Red Teeth, and general to the King of the Gramar. He knows how to fight and how to use his anger as a weapon, and he knows the name and face of his wife, Ra-Keely.

He also knows that his entire clan was slaughtered before his very eyes and he was unable to stop it from happening. For all his power and combat skill he wasn't able to stop dark riders from rumbling into their clanlands one night and killing nearly everyone in their sleep and those few who were able to mount a defense were quickly cut down in the charge of heavy slizards each with a black scaled lizardman astride its back. He was stunned by some kind of explosion and left to watch wide-eyed as his wife and children were killed, not even Death's rage could bring him to move...the trauma was too great.

With much of his past gone the only memories he can recall are ones of recent history. His journey through the many lands fighting many foes and discovering more about his past. Eventually he will find the architects of his misery and pain and destroy them like they tried to destroy him time and again.

Other: His wife's name is Ra-Keely and eventually he will learn the names of his children.

Wraith Draxer Ripinger

Name: Draxer Ripinger

Appearance: He stands a towering 10'5 feet tall which even by Stalker  standards is tall, he weighs a stacked 568 lbs all muscle, his skin is a  black green in color and his spikes are short and curved another unique  trait by Stalker standards.

He is dressed in the raiment of a Wraith, the general of the Fearstalker army. A badge of office made of gold with three long scratches on the front and his cloak and tunic are black with red fringe with the same symbol as his badge on the back. Pitch black armor covers his shins, legs, torso and arms with the emblems of his king on them, blood red  eyes inside a purple outlined triangle. He forgoes a helmet not liking  how it limits his vision and hearing. He carries a pair of long curved  swords very much like cutlasses across his back. The claws on his hands and feet are bare giving him free range of motion to attack.

Age: 1,203 years old

Abilities: Enhanced strength, speed, agility, amazing stealth and senses ability to turn invisible, resistant to  disease and poison, natural night vision.


Skills: Master of Warfare and Psychology.   
Highly skilled in Mind and Dark Magic that helps to aid him in his hunting for prey.
Master of unarmed and melee combat. Trained from birth in it by his father the last Wraith.

Personality: Rough but cordial when it's needed he doesn't trust anyone  in the Nobility, not from the dumbest grunt to the warlock himself but  he keeps his distrust to himself most of the time.  He knows they all  felt the same way about him and that's the way he likes it, he needed  them to work together though so he puts on a face of general respect. He  has a twisted sense of honor another thing his father taught him,  respect every enemy no matter how small and never attack the unarmed.

Background: Drax war born the last son of the former Wraith of the Fearstalker army. Graxigor Ripinger, average in appearance, but with a mind and magical ability that could rival the King and Queen themselves. But this was to be expected as Graxigor was the brother of Queen Hisiga. Yes for but a simple twist of fate Drax could've been the hereditary King of his people in his later years, still even if his cousin would become King before him he was destined for a duty arguably greater than that of King.

He was set to be his father's successor. Being big for his age Drax fully embraced his destiny, war is the Stalker way of life. Even the commoners and artisans due two tours in the Grand Shadow Army. That way should the need arise the entire Fearstalker race could rally and destroy those which threaten them. Such an event has only happened once since their race crawled from the darkness of Lord Azzarox's blood as he fought with Helios for dominance over the realms of the Sky River.

The match was a draw and the land was split in two each favored people of their warriors taking one bank. Helios and his Sunfighter follows took the lush and fertile side calling it the Day Sky River. While Azzarox and his army of Fearstalkers dove under the bank taking the caverns and controlling the veins of Mana that swirling through out them. They called their land the Night Sky River and have been living there ever since. Azzarox's first son Rasokald, became the Grand Wraith and from him the traditions of Fearstalker battle and warfare grew. And Draxer would be another master warrior to carry on the title. He's fought many wars in his over 1200 years of life, some even with the survival of existence hanging in the balance, but he was victorious in each one and when his father passed he was on the fast track to continue his legacy. But like everything else among the Fearstalker people he still needed to earn the title, thus he embarked upon the quest to seek Azzarox's tomb. Many other skilled and prominant Stalkers partook in the quest, but Draxer was the only one to succeed. He spent a full year in total darkness before the Fearstalker god's carved effigy listening to the madness of the night to hear his God's words deeming him worthy of the title his father had honorably held for so long. Delirious from lack of food or magic sustaining fear drinking only the few sporadic streams of water that seeped so far into the earth he was on the verge of death when Azzarox finally spoke to him. Filled with the Abyss Lord's darkness Draxer found himself revitalised and with the glowing eyes of the Wraith piercing the shadows all around him.

He returned to his people a hero and chosen by divine rite to lead the army as the newest Wraith and so he has served for many centuries, never wavering from his duty, but also never trying to secure his legacy and find a female of his own so someday he would have a child that could keep the tradition of the Ripinger clan going.

The Recasts Group 2

Iolaire-Sealgair

Name: Iolaire-Sealgair (translates to eagle hunter in the ancient Albanach tongue)
Age: 32
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Iolaire and Dubhar

Like any spawn birthed from two warrior races Iolaire is a bear of man. 6'11 and weighing a mighty 280 pounds of thick cold resistant muscle. His hair is the color of fresh bark and his eyes burn with the cyan glow of Albain's purest skies.

His ever present companion and oldest friend is his Dire Eagle Dubhar(translates to Shade in the ancient tongue). A bird both large and imposing with feathers of dark brown and eyes of vibrant amber and tipping the scales at 40 inches tall, weighing in at 15 pounds with a wingspan of 7 feet.

Iolaire's outfit usually consists of the above, a sturdy mix of scale mail armor on his shoulders and studded leather covering his torso. His gauntlets are also studded leather and lined with fine rabbit fur to ward off the cold in the north. He wears modified iron greaves on his thighs and his boots are metal shined leaving his knees free to move with ease they are also rabbit fur lined. He often has a bear fur cloak draped about his shoulders and the Visigoth raid flag his father and mother bedded on when they conceived him is wrapped about his neck like a scarf.  He also carries a bone fetish carved in the shape of a soaring eagle. He wears it at all times, keeping the amulet under his armor and always close to his heart.

Race: Half breed, his father was an Albanach warrior and his mother was a Visigoth Raider. A more violent coupling the Gods couldn't imagine.

Job: Big game hunter

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4)

Magical Resistance: An ability of unknown origin, but something the allows Iolarie to tank magic spells offensive ones and buffers. While not unheard among his people is extremely rare.

Powerful: Genetics, living a hard life, and hunting animals big enough to kill him in one blow. Iolaire is a bear of a man, both in strength and durability.

Swift Hunter: Much like a Sabercat he can move quickly over short distances, but his size makes it hard to be a marathon runner.

Keen Eyes: A natural skill he mastered over the years the man has very good eyes and can see decently enough in the dark.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Ranger: His skillset, his lifestyle, living in the wilds and learning the thrill of the hunt.

Tracker: Able to find and follow tracks under any conditions and go with it for many miles.

Primitive Hunter: Using long metal tipped spears and darts and an elk antler atlatl. Iolaire is deadly accurate and able to drop mammoths from one hundred yards.

Falconry: While not using a falcon, Iolaire still uses the same techniques with his Dire Eagle, Dubhar.

Leather working: Able to skin, tan, and work with leather to make things like armor, clothes, saddles, etc.


Weaknesses: While Iolaire is man of the wilds with great skill in woodcraft and survival he has no formal training  or even any real knowledge in the Scholarly pursuits many associate with a "civilized society" He cannot read or write, nor can he look at a mathematical problem on a sheet of paper and be able to make heads or tails of it. He has no artistic understanding or cultured opinions on politics or fashion. He speaks bluntly and with no skill in the finer points of speechcraft he often steps over an invisible line that calls for him to rectify the problem with his fist. He is not stupid, but all his skills are born from surviving and word of mouth. He also lacks a cultured tongue and accent, living his whole life in Albain means he wields the thick northern accent like a warhammer rushing past others in a desire to get his thoughts out first before he becomes confused with the flow of conversation.

He knows full well his intellectual limitations and it has often made him into the fool when he tries to respond properly to something and it comes out wrong causing others to mock and force him to step back before he hurts anyone. The burning pride of both the Albanacha, and the Visigot smoulders forever in the man's heart and it stops him from asking for aid in the fields he is weakest in.

And lastly his biggest weakness would be his temper. Even with a better control of it in his late twenties that fiery dragon is always just under the surface waiting for a single chain to break before it rends it's cage asunder and rains pain down upon the offender and those around him. This rage is quick and devastating, he has been known to break the necks of horses and splinter the walls of wooden houses when in the throes of his anger. And short of killing him, there is no way to quell it, all that can be done is run and hide until he comes down on his own.

As is always the effect of a man's anger, guilt and regret follow close on the heels of a rage. He is brought face to face with the pain and suffering he has wrought each and every time. Angry mobs chase him into the wilds and force him deeper and deeper into isolation. With that isolation comes a certain lucidity of madness. He stares into the abyss for hours feeling the utmost sadness for his actions, but he lacks the ability to end his own life. So he chooses to try and focus that regret into hunting and surviving doing what he can to keep his mind off it.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Atlatl and hunting darts: His primary hunting tools the atlatl itself is two feet long and the darts themselves are about a foot long apiece and tipped with hardened metal heads.

Boar Spear: A stout spear about as long as his arm from shoulder to middle finger tip and topped with a hefty black metal barbed head.

Hunting Knife: Like his spear his hunting knife is made of a strong black steel. Razor sharp cutting edge with a saw back and thick blunted pommel.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): The thick studded leather armor in the image.

Equipment: Fire-making tools, leather working tools, dart and spear maintenance tools, thick bedroll, trapping tools, his heavy bear fur cloak.

Personality: Upon first glance fear is often the thing someone feels when looking upon the large Ranger. His unsmiling face, his steady brooding eyes, the square and defensive way he keeps his broad shoulders pulled back, as if waiting for death to come calling after him. Everything lends towards an air of a hard fought life and the unspeakable cruelty of the far north.

And those initial feelings are not wrong, a life of isolation will leave anyone grim faced and cheerless. Iolaire is one such case, but he is not an emotionless block of ice as many would expect. He simply wishes to take each step carefully, born with a most savage of tempers the Ranger has spent much of his solitary life trying to keep himself in check. Because death often follows when red crosses his eye and his anger wins out.

With only Dubhar and the occasional traveler he has traded with for companionship, Iolaire is a private man. He has a kind disposition towards animals of all kinds and a knack for calming them should they get upset. Women fascinate him to the point of distraction at times. He has had enough contact with them to know what to expect, but even then he mostly just watches them from a distance and lets them make the first move.

Faith: Having been raised among the Albanacha, Iolaire follows their faith of harmony with nature. In particular he is a follower of the Way of the Eagle. He still carries the amulet he got from the old man that saved him, pulling it out when he is alone and chanting softly asking the Eagle to guide him. The Way of the Eagle is a belief system that man must follow three paths or "ways" to reach a point of true harmony with himself and the world around him. The Ways are, the Way of the Warrior which is the physical plane, the Way of the Hunter which is the mental plane, and lastly is the Way of the Leader which is the Spiritual plane. As of now Iolaire has mastered the Way of the Warrior and is skilled in the Way of the Hunter, but he has only just begun upon the Way of the Leader.



Likes: Women, meat, the cold, sunrise, hot mead, and the wilderness .

Dislikes: Southerners, the heat, the night, tea, cities, and losing his prey.

History

Iolaire's origins are as coated in blood as his present life. He was born from a three day tryst between Chalmers, a Albanaigh warrior and Gudrun, a Visigoda raider from the sea. His father Chalmers was part of a militia created to combat the ongoing raids from Goth. He and his men had the raiders pinned down and were readying a final assault on their encampment when a storm of legend blew in from the sea. Both sides were tossed into chaos and any thoughts of war were quickly dispelled as most of the raiders fled to their ships to try and sail through the icy winds and the warriors ran for the protection of the many caves along the coast.

By some sick twist of fate Iolaire's parent wound up using the same cave for protection. Like a Sabercat and Direwolf being locked into the same room together the two warriors fought themselves bloody. Exchanging blow for blow until they sunk into a battleborn lust and passion. Using Gudrun's signal flag as a bed they coupled well into the night. The storm ravaged the coast for three days seeking out and destroying both the raiders on their ships and the militiamen squatting in the caves. Almost all fell to the rage of the blizzard, all but the man and woman huddling together besides a natural hot springs deep in a cave to the East. Feeling a carnal love and mutual lust for one another, they continued to couple and at the end of the third day when the storm had finally dissipated. Gudrun was shown a dream of motherhood and knew right then she was with child.
Chalmers had a dream as well. Only this one showed a dark cloud was hanging over the child's soul and if it was allowed to live it would kill them both in a thunderous rage. He kept this from Gudrun though, maybe the spirits were playing tricks on him for bedding a Visigoda "whore". When the storm passed the couple fled into the wilds and stayed there for the nine months needed for their son to come full term. He was born strong and healthy, but also under a cold moonless night with thick black clouds hanging overhead. Chalmers replayed the dream in his head and knew this waif would be the one to kill them in the years to come. But his woman was glowing with motherly energy and he couldn't bring himself to ruin it for her. He remembered the stories she told about the children she had lost in the past. For a year they raised the boy, but as soon as he was weaned from Gudrun's breast Chalmers  wrapped the boy in his mother's raid flag and stole him away one night. He left the sleeping child beneath a Faerie tree as a way to appease the little folk and ask them spare him and his mate from the death he knew would come to pass.

The night was cold and wet, but it was not the night destined to bring about the end of Iolaire. He remained comfortable and safe in the roots of the Fae tree the thick fabric of the raid flag shielding him and by morning an old Shaman had found him and rescued the wailing child. For five years the old man raised him, teaching him the ways of the Albanach and giving him the name Iolaire-Sealgair. The man taught him the way of the spear, the knife, and the hunt, but it was only temporary. The old man who Iolaire never learned the name of died one warm summer night. Age had caught him, and then fate decided to raise the child itself. Wild and free under the skies and unchecked in all aspect of life, Iolaire knew only his name, his hunting skills, and the Eagle amulet Shaman had given him with his last breath. For many this would've spelt the end, but the anger his parents feared gave him the edge he needed to fight the wild animals, so for fifteen more years he let the rage be his best weapon against the claws of death. He caused a great many troubles for the villages in the shadow of the mountain where he lived. Using his eagle to pillage and hunt and his massive size and power to terrorize farmers, he was the bane of peace everywhere. That is until he angered a powerful Bann and felt the man's wrath come crashing down upon his head like a wave from the coast. He escaped with his life, but the injuries taught him a lesson he had never been taught before, consequences come for those who bring havoc.

At age twenty he decided to turn over a new leaf and try to control his anger. It didn't always work, but eventually he managed to go a few years without losing it. He traded meat and hides for things he needed and generally stayed out of everyone's' way. The Ranger seemed to finally find peace giving thanks to the spirits for it all along the way, that is until his twenty-sixth winter. He had made a fair pile of coin capturing and taming a rare white stag for Bann Rindar, the man had been tracking the beast for years and believed it to be proof his rule was ordained by nature since his banner was the rampart white stag on a field of deep green. Many men, the Bann included had failed to catch the large beast getting just close enough to see it's burning red eyes before it vanished like smoke into the elder wood.
Word of Iolaire's skill came to the Bann's ears and the man was so obsessed with the stag he was willing to forgive the wild hunter's past crime if he could capture that which the Bann valued most.
With a reward like that it was impossible for Iolaire to say no. Packing up everything he would need the Ranger began the most important hunt of his life, the hunt for his redemption. For many months he tracked the Stag over vale and dale, across moors, and up ragged peaks. He caught it at midnight besides the very Faerie tree that sheltered him after his father abandoned him. Of course he didn't know this at the time, he just saw his prey and lunged. He crashed into the animal and the two of them scuffled for a few minutes until the white deer leapt at Iolaire and sent him crashing through the old tree destroying it in the process, but the loose soil made for unsure footing and the stag fell allowing the hunter to muzzle it and jump upon it's back. The two males fought throughout the night, the stag using all it's might to try and toss the giant man from it's back and Iolaire wrapping his thick arms around the creature's neck holding on with all of his own considerable strength.

It was the early stages of dawn when the Stag finally reached it's end and laid down in defeat. Iolaire let out a triumphant bellow and wrapped the gold inlaid rope the Bann had provided around the stag's neck and tied it to a large oak tree nearby. They rested for a few hours, then the Ranger began leading his prize back to the village. There the Bann and his men greeted him with praise and fanfare allowing the hunter to walk the great white stag right through the gates of Rindar's Keep. There the Bann gave Iolaire his word that all his crimes were forgiven and a sack of gold to spend as he wished. This looked to be the happiest day of the big man's life and he was on his way to the local inn to enjoy some of the Innkeeper's famous mead and roasted pig.
The people there were warm and inviting, Iolaire was already enjoying his new fame, sadly the wild man had spent too much time in the forests and wasn't up on all the gossip surrounding the Bann. Rindar was a cruel and vindictive man, he was also one of the people Iolaire had wronged in one his rages. Iolaire had killed the Bann's prized hunting hounds a few years back and ever since Rindar has been trying to exact his revenge, but Iolaire was too good at hiding in the woods for anyone to find him so the Bann needed to convince the recluse to show himself.

And that is when he decided to combine the two things he wanted most. The White Stag and Iolaire-Sealgair's head, it was just good fortune he managed to convince the dimwitted hunter to catch the deer for him. But now with the Stag in his clutches he was ready to kill and make an example of the huntsman. Eagle Hunter was well into his cups when the Bann stormed into the inn and had Iolaire arrested. He was then dragged out into the street to be executed. Too drunk to fight back at the moment the Ranger looked on in a daze as four men grabbed him and carried him away from the warmth of the inn and tossed him into the muddy street outside. He saw the Bann through a haze and could only hear his words as a fuzzy whining. He didn't know what was going on, but as he saw the bright glint of a headsman's axe in the firelight of the mob's torches his instincts told him he had been betrayed and his rage told him the time had come to fight. Red blurred his vision and the city of Rindale became bloody that night.

He does not know how long he was in this blind rage and he still doesn't know exactly how many met their end at his hand. His next memory after the inn was in the southern parts of Albain carrying his hunting equipment, his cloak, armor, the flag scarf and his eagle. His hands were still bruised and swollen and a large cut around the back of his neck had been hastily mended with a bit of linen. Still to this day that entire night is lost to him. He wandered for a year hopping the first boat to the Khoran Isles where he hoped he would be far enough away from the anger of Bann Rindar's retainers. No one cared for your crimes in this haven for pirates and cowards, as long as you watched your back and kept your head down you'd be fine.
He found odd jobs hunting and did some manual labor, putting his massive size to use when game was scarce. It was during one of these manual labor jobs that Iolaire came across a bloated Sarbai slave master and a pale skinned Shenkai slave woman. Iolaire was simply wishing to eat a quiet dinner by himself when the man arrived all perfume and gaudy robes, he was drunk and tossing coins all around the bar buying up tables for his many "friends".

The Highlander was used to pitiful displays like this. And most times he would simply finish his meal as quickly as possible and leave, but the Slave Master moved quicker than the Huntsman could eat. He had bought and seated every table in the spacious inn, and he had taken a fancy to the table by the fireplace for his own, but Iolaire had claimed it first the warmth helped soothe the aches in his back from lifting heavy crates onto ships all day. He was doing his best to be done and go home, but the Sarbian's lack of patience wouldn't allow it.

He approached Iolaire and sneered.
"Begone sheep shagger, your betters require this table."

Finishing his mouthful of food Iolaire began voicing an apology, but one of the Slaver's guards stepped up and swept the remnants of the hunter's food from his table shattering them against the floor and wall. Sealgair could feel the anger stirring so he quickly stood and tried to move away, but that same guard swung at the giant's head with his club. It connected with a resounding thud, but the impact forced the man to drop his broken club and stagger back. Iolaire didn't see red, but no attack on him would go unpunished. The attacker's arm was grabbed and broken before Iolaire spun in a circle ripping the limb from its socket and sending the guard into the stone mantle above the fireplace. The second guard then tried to come to his comrade's aid but was kicked squarely in the chest and sent through the railings of the stairs. The last man standing between the cowering Slave Master and the massive Albanaigh was grabbed around his throat and hefted several feet off the floor before being smashed through the very table Iolaire had been sitting at.

With his guards so easily dispatched and the rest of his party too stunned to act the black bearded man dropped to his pudgy knees and tried to bargain with the Highlander for his life.
"Please, good warrior it was just in jest. My men didn't mean to offend you! Please spare my life we'll be on our way! I...I'll even give you my newest servant, Mizia! She's a young nubile thing, a touch on the small side, but of Shenkai stock! She can cook, she can dance, and you know what they say about those warrior women...right? Lovers with endless stamina and known for producing strong sons and daughters! Everything a great Albanaigh warlord could want in a woman!" The man even called the girl over for the big man to look at. Iolaire loomed over the quaking man, the very idea of slavery sickened him. All people should be free, by rights he should crush this bastard's skull and free all of his servants, but he could already hear the Slave Master's other men plucking up their courage to attack him, the giant did not wish to fight any more this night. So he took the woman's contract and ripped it to shreds freeing her before making his way through the tavern to the road. He had done his good deed for the day, what happened to the woman next was out of his hand.

Zeke Edge

Name: Zeke Edge
Age: 28
Gender: Male

Job: Farmer/ Survivor

Class: Hunter

Appearance: 

The Man

Zeke is an extremely fit man 185 pounds of hard earned muscle and 5'8. When working the farm he's wearing old blue jeans, a white-tank-top, and when needed an old leather coat.

Though when out in the wilds he is clothed in thick tan pants, a warm field jacket with a hood, wool finger-less gloves, tac-vest, and heavy brown combat boots. 

Personality: Zeke...doomsday prepper, man of the wild, the type of person who can either shape the world for the better...or burn it down to see if the flames are a different color. Maniacal, outspoken, and about as eloquent and delicate as a three legged Ox.

He's lived on the edge of society his entire life with only people like him to interact with. Few social graces but with a somewhat animal magnetism about him. It's hard to look away from Zeke if for no other reason than to see if he kills himself juggling flaming meat cleavers.


Strengths

Extremely Fit: Gotta be ready to run from the zombies or dropkick your way into a house. Always moving and having been raised on a farm has blessed with a body ready to the long haul.

Master of the Land: From camping, to hunting, to farming, to making tools. Zeke is most at home on the wilds. Able to survive with a pointy stick and his two hands.

Quick thinking: Thinking quick keeps you alive, you learn this or die in the Edge family.

Madman's Luck: Either too good to die, or just too crazy to be good. No one knows the reason, but Zeke has a knack for not dying when by all rights and rules of logic he should.


Weaknesses

Mad: First and foremost, Zeke is nuts. Whether it's a legitimate medical condition or just the way he finds it best to interact with the world is unknown. But either way this has screwed Zeke over damn near as much as it has saved him. And it makes him something of a liability in groups.

Rusher: More a reactionary creature than a planner, Zeke relies a little too heavily on luck and instinct over smart planning.

Fearless Fool: Close to Rusher, but this one makes him put his own life on the line to save others (even if they aren't in real danger) which has resulted in him putting himself in a hospital before.

No techie: The most advance bit of technology he can work is a cordless phone. Beyond that it takes time, effort, and hand holding to get him through it.

Hidden ability

I speak for the Trees: Zeke can talk to plants, and knows every type of plant he comes across even those not if this Earth. Just by looking or talking with them he can know it's name, purpose, and effects on Humans both good and bad.

Element

Nature: Like everything else in Zeke's life he has a very close affinity to Nature, particularly the plants. If he focuses he can almost feel the natural world breathing and moving around him. As such he has a knack for things like camouflage, foraging, and trapping.

Bio: Born on an old plantation a few miles south of Atlanta. While not originally belonging to his family the Edges having been tilling the soil there for four generations. Tobacco, cotton, and various kinds of animal meat were the primary exports coming off Edge plantation.

Zeke is the youngest of the family, his brother Ike was twenty-eight, but they've always been close. And being the only kids around for miles they were their own best friends. Hunting fishing, tearing around the woods and swamps near their home. This was life and it was a good one for many years. That was until Ike decided to follow in his Grandfather's footsteps and joined the Army. Zeke was too young to join so he got saddled with Ike's chores, it took him a bit of time, but he grew stronger each and everyday and business continued as usual.

Though as his brother completed his training and went off to war the mood changed. His father and grandfather always subscribed to the be prepared for anything philosophy, but the day Ike got shipped out they doubled-down on it turning the idea into an obsession. Building a fallout shelter, buying up stocks of ammo and supplies, and began training heavily in survival, woodcraft, and anything else they could think of. Zeke learned what he could, but when news came to the homestead that Ike had been killed in combat his family went nuts. They sold their crops and fields and turned the plantation house into a small fort.

They turned towards teaching other doomsday preppers for income, but Zeke was somewhat disenchanted with it. He was tired of living like the death of the human race was right around the corner. So on his 26th birthday he bought a one way ticket to DC, he had been talking with a friend up there who had a nice paying job at Camp for him. Even if he was trying to get away from the doomsayer life the habits traveled with him. He had his full bug-out bag and weapons stuffed in the back of his old jeep and arrived in DC a full week before word came down the line of the World Con, sounded like fun and despite his habits he let a friend talk him out of bringing his own jeep and most of his gear, still he managed to get away with his normal kit of pocket knife, matches, and his rigger's belt. And of course any prepper can make use of boot lace and elastic. He hoped it'd be a fun waste of his only day off a week.

Other: The alarm clock screamed through the layers of a lucid dream filled with babes in America flag bikinis carrying beer and burgers. A single man sitting in a spangled wading pool wearing a crown with a small mountain of cans next to him. Zeke always loved these dreams, but sadly reality comes with the dawn.

A heavy tanned hand came down heavily upon the noisy machine shutting it up.
"Ugh makes ya miss the roosters back home." The slow Southern drawl of the sleeping man groaned out from under the sheets. "At least then I could deep fry'em afterwards. Why did I even set that retarded thing? Man's only got one day off" Despite his body's protests the covers were thrown aside and the nearly nude body of a fit man half tumbled half slide out of the bed. A loud low yawn filled the air and he stumbled across the room and into the bathroom slamming the door behind him. Soon the sound of bad singing and running water was all that was heard in the small DC apartment.

The walls only had to deal with it for about fifteen minutes because in no time at all. The man exited the bathroom clad in just a towel still singing quietly to himself. "Oh right World Con or sometin'." He said allowed heading back to his room to get dressed for the fuckery in store today.

Vex-Star

Name: Vex-Star
Age: 21
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Vex

Vex at a distance looks like any other Human being you might come across in the civilized universe. Average weight and build with a slightly above average height. His skin is unusually shiny and seems to have a somewhat bronze appearance to it. His hair is thick and dark brown color, his eyes are an almost glowing orange. Normally he wears a worn out set of blue jeans, black boots, a white tank-top and a long coat that seemed to sport some kind of old military insignias.

Up close he doesn't change too much, but it much more obvious he is not fully human. His bronze colored skin looks more like silicone plates slapped over some bone and muscle. Smooth and shiny, but also soft and slick to the touch. His eyes that once simply looked to be glowing are in fact really glowing like the lights of a computer modem. And if you listen closely he seems to creak when he moves.

Vex is a Mecagoth, a solitary and old race that were once considered to be the Forebears for many other alien races, this isn't fully known though nor is much of their true history off their homeworld. Which considering the Curse that afflicts the many Mecagoth's that is most definitely a good thing. The Mecagoth are what they call "Star-Cursed" Their ancestors got too ambitious and tried to break the fabric of space and time. So as punishment, the people who leave Meccigda(the Mecagoth homeworld) fall victim to something like a dormant virus that forces them to become monster made of otherworldly metal that is resistant to all forms of damage and erosion rumored to come from the heart of a dying star that detonated at the beginning of time. From being submerged into the molten metal of a planet's core to surviving the darkest vacuums of space. They are very powerful and tough, but also nigh uncontrollable once a Meca goes savage it requires the power of star or the power of powerful Ionized field to bring him down.



In his Cursed form Vex grows to an imposing 7 foot tall and weighs nearly half a ton. His body is like one living machine. He grows sharp claws, his body loses his skin and sports a more metallic skeleton appearance his head undergoing the greatest change becoming bestial and sport a long prehensile appendage like a metal tail that can grow to immense length and act like another limb as well as a weapon.

Race: Mecagoth
Job: Formerly a Recycler, currently Smuggler. 

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4)

Metal Fist: The natural defense of all Meca's. Acting like a springy ceramic kevlar he is quite resistant to energy based weapon like lasers and plasma. But not quite as strong against piercing weapons. It also gives him enhanced strength and durability equal to someone more than twice his size.

Willpower: A necessary ability to keep the Beast inside, Vex is quite strongly willed.

Multi-sight: His eyes adapt to low light levels quickly and can tap into the infrared spectrum.

Sonic Emission: His people aren't a naturally speaking species their vocal cords are very still and metallic until they begin to train them. As such his people usually communicated through sounds waves similar the white noise you hear on a static radio sometimes. It allows them to mimic a great range of sounds.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Pilot: Having been a captain of his own ship for a few years he is quite skilled at piloting all kinds of space craft.

Gunner: Not everyone likes having their body's ripped apart and sometimes they run. So you need to be able to shoot them at any range to gain their compliance.

Recycler: Having spent part of his short life working for Astro Augmentation as a Recycler. It was his job to go out and "recycle" augs from their former owners. By any means necessary. As such he knows the laws of the Universe as well as the universe itself.

Amateur Mechanic: A skill of necessity especially since he was let go of Astro Augs. He can do down and dirty quick fixes on his ship and gear as needed. But when it comes to more complex ones he's just as likely to ditch the ship and find someone else to fix it.

Fighter: Sometimes you don't have a gun and those times you need to punch things. Vex's natural strength and toughness allows him to punch very hard.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Breaker Bolt Rifle: An odd weapon where retro design meets futuristic ability. Looking like an ancient Earth Bolt Action Rifle it fires bolts of higher speed laser bolts that while they don't burn very hot, they hit with the power of a comet.

Stratadrake Shotgun: A simple plasma based shotgun he found in what equates to a Black Market Yard Sale.

Scatter Pulse Pistol: Basically a sawed-off version of his Stratadrake.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): Vex has no need for armor as his skin is naturally tough and resistant to damage.

Equipment: The clothes on his back, his junk harvesting tools, water, food, and Lilith.

Augs(Limit of 3):

Neural Inhibitor: A common aug among Mecagoth's, it controls their inhibitions and emotions so they don't go into their Beast form as easily

Focus Eye: An essential aug he gained as a Recycler. It gives him a zoom and enhance ability used for aiming.


Personality: While his N.I. is in effect, Vex is a very level individual. He's carries a cold logic about him. He makes choices based on his own needs or on the needs of his mission at the time. But on the flip he's hard to get riled up and as trustworthy as they come.

Likes: Money, women, being alone, sex, his guns, his comic book collection, Lilith.

Dislikes: The Astro Augment Company, losing his comics, having a nagging wife without the fun parts of marriage.

Background: Born in the Northern Hemisphere of the Mecagoth homeworld of Titanar. His family were simple folk. Working in the mines harvesting the minerals the Mecagoth's need to maintain their metallic skeletons and dense bodies. In the past this would be his family were almost royalty, but in this day-and-age they were simply workers. Mecagoth's had long given up on having the means to make an Empire as their Star-Curses mean they can never leave their home planet and rule at large.

While for many people this would lead to endless war or some kind of Socialist government. For a group of nigh invincible metal golems it would be only a waste of time and lives. While no Mecagoth is created equal, none are created far greater than their kin. Before they were cursed the most ambitious of them would be the leader. They conquered many solar systems, and their banner flew in the capital of numerous planets.

But when the curse came their empires crumbled and their banners were torn down by those they conquered. This was many millennia ago, and since then the Mecagoth's have become a race of planet bound home bodies. And Vex's family is the latest of that lifestyle, he has both parents as well as two brothers. But the life of a miner was never something Vex-Star wished for himself. But if he had known where the life he chose would take him...he would've swallowed his pride and picked up the plasma cutter instead.

Once he had enough saved he got a neural implant and a ride off-world. His natural strength and durability served him well for a few years being a bodyguard. Small peanuts, but enough to give him a room at a space station and some food when he needed it. His big break came with a short cybernetic woman dressed in the silver and white uniform of the Astro Augment Company. They needed some Recyclers and they heard about a young Mecagoth roaming this sector, so they sought him out and hired him. He was only 17, but age doesn't matter much when your people are known for being able to survive in the vacuum of space. Like every job it started out good. Easy jobs, big pay days, his own ship, it kept him happy and busy until about two months ago. A job went sidewise he lost not only the aug he was meant to grab, but the target was blown up along with the ship they we all on. Vex survived the explosion of course being a Mecagoth. The company didn't take kindly to it all of course so a bounty was placed on his head and never being one to die easy he grabbed a ship and shot off into space.

Other: Vex has been around the galaxy a few times, and as he usually jokes Lilith is like a small nagging wife that he can't have sex with to him.

Giovanni Auditore

Name: Giovanni Auditore
Age: 33
Gender: Male

Homeland: Firenze, Vodacce
Special skills (includes magic, specific fighting techniques, etc): Sceriffo: A term and skillset that means equal parts Upholder of Law...and Ender of Lives. Trained from childhood into drunken adulthood. To knows the laws of all lands, shoot guns and bows as well as swing a sword or his fist. As long as he was told it was "La Legge or the Law."

Strengths:

Giudice: In the Vodacce tongue it means Judge. When sober he has deep knowledge of laws. And not just Vodacce laws, but the laws of any country civilized enough to have an internalized Justice system. When drunk he knows it's bad in most place to kill or steal.

Giuria: In the Vodacce tongue it means Jury. When sober he has an impressive ability to look at a situation with an objectively open mind. Able to hear all sides and come to conclusions absent of bias or prejudice. When drunk he can...hear both sides of an argument... and say who is full of shit and who is...less full of shit.

Boia: In the Vodacce tongue it means Executioner. Sober or drunk Gio is a dangerous man from any distance. He's been trained in the use of firearms mostly pistols, but can use a musket if you shove one in his hands. And while his primary melee training is in Lucani he has skill in the rest of the traditional Vodacce Disciplines given the proper tools. And lastly he has skill in plain old kickboxing for when he doesn't have a weapon.


Weaknesses:

Branded: Whenever he is seen out of his great coat and mask his entire body is marked with the Vodacce tattoos that denote him a killer of men, unclean and exiled from society.

Drunkard: From a lifetime of horrors and soul burning stains, alcohol is his only escape.

Mistrust of Everyone: When you are born and raised in the blood soaked lands of Vodacce and then find yourself thrust to the front lines of the petty infighting among nobles being seen and used as a weapon more than listened to as a person you begin seeing the world through motives, gains, and ulterior remarks. Everyone is out for something and no one does anything out of the goodness of their heart.

Typical role within party (i.e. scout, fighter, supporter, etc):[/b] Drunk, Executioner, Spy. Whatever allows him to keep drinking.


Description:

Giovanni

Above was Gio's uniform as a Sceriffo or a Sheriff for the House Auditore. His equipment was empowered with simple magics to glow menacingly. But those aside they were mundane garments made of the highest quality as befitting a servant of a powerful Vodacce family. Durable and comfortable, made to cut an imposing figure as much as protect the wearer from some harm.

And even after he was forced to leave that life and the glowing bits have stopped he keeps the outfit as no one wants to buy the tainted effects of the cursed profession of Sceriffo. They are his normal garbs in combat or at the bar. As dirty and blood stained as they are the mere sight has done wonders for both bringing trouble right up to him and keeping it at bay.

Underneath his greatcoat, boots, and hat though is a reviled and broken man in dire need of either a bath or a spiritual cleansing. Not unattractive as much as...marred by the nonsensical tattoos of his profession. Stocky build, average height, with blurry amber colored eyes and a disheveled mop of black curly hair, his face, while square and pleasant is plagued by a perpetually patchy beard that just can seem to grow under the riot of facial tattoos.

What skin that can be seen under his markings is mocha in color, but whether or not that is his natural tone or the result of not bathing frequently is up for debate. While his shoulders are broad and his back strong he carries himself like an old tired dog. Head down, shoulders slumped, feet shuffling along without purpose.

History

Like most of his life Giovanni drinks to forget his childhood. And after all these years it's succeeded pretty well in doing just that. But in the few instances where he is sober he remembers being pulled away from a beautiful dark skinned woman with curly hair, simple clothing, and screaming baby in her arms. He assumed his mother and younger sibling, but they could also just have been people he saw as he was being dragged away. He doesn't know and considering what happened next it hardly matters who they were.

He was taken the hilltop villa of the Auditore family. Among the richest and most powerful families in the city which was saying a lot. But considering it was built around a Merchant Prince that married a Sorte Witch that might be all that is needed to be said. Like every great house in Vodacce, the Auditores have a great deal of power and a great deal of enemies. As such they need a great deal of protection even with a Sorte Witch in their House so they created their own Forze di Polizia. A private security force tasked with upholding "The Law" in their fiefdoms and "The Law" was whatever the cutthroat and cruel family wished it to be at the time.

Such groups weren't uncommon among the Vodaccen nobility, but every single one was used in the exact same way...as the family's own personal goon squad. Many poor men and women threw themselves at the chance to be gainfully employed and have a powerful family behind them. But the money and food came at a tremendous cost, the humanity and future of each Sceriffo and Sceriffa that put on the signature coat. Once you are known for being the hammer which the nobles use to play their Game you better die in that life or hope you never lose the favor of your Master or Mistress, because once that happens you are considered worse than any breed of criminal short of genocidal murderers. This was young Giovanni's future he just didn't know it yet.

Many Polizia forces are conscripted individuals and many of those conscripts were kids stolen by or sold to the rich families to pay off some debt or earn some favor. Giovanni hoped he was of the former case rather than the latter. Being sold out of desperation makes the sting of being sold at all slightly less painful than being sold for a pat on the head. But like most everything else it doesn't matter now. He and a group of six other kids two more boys and three girls were lumped into a unit of sorts called Classe Sei or Class Six. The Matrons and Patrons called them his brothers and sisters only, he doesn't even recall if he ever learned the names of his new "siblings" they were always "tall brother" or "soft-skinned sister" when they talked with each other. Giovanni was "Amber-eyed brother" for most of his childhood and his closest sibling was "heart-faced sister" that much he does remember.

From that point on Giovanni's life was one of pain and training. Half of his class was wiped out before they completed training, only himself, white-haired brother, and one-eyed sister survived to adulthood. Heart-faced sister was killed around his thirteenth birthday by a runaway horse cart. That was the last time he ever cried, he might've cried one last time  after graduation when he was drugged and tied down by his arms and legs as the villa's ink master carved the Marchi della Legge the "Brands of Law" upon his body, but he was quite out of sorts then and couldn't remember. They had no rhyme or reason as far as he could tell, but whatever they were meant to be, they were viewed as a death sentence both for his victims and himself. As long as he worked for his Lord and Lady he was nigh untouchable aside from rival Sceriffi. But as soon as they lost power or he lost their favor he would be tossed to the wolves.

That happened at age twenty-five. A conscience is fickle and dangerous thing, in training they try to beat it out of you. If that doesn't work you are either enchanted or drugged into forgetting you have one, that usually works. But in the rarest of cases even that wears off and much to Giovanni's dismay he was one of those cases. The drugging did work wonders for years though, he lived by the book of the Auditore, knew every law, every punishment. And he carried out this brand of "justice" with cold professionalism. A beggar loitering around the villa gates? Foot broken and imprisonment for two years. A small time crook swindling peasants without paying his dues to the Auditore? Both arms broken and his belongings confiscated as recompense and imprisoned for five years...a hungry little kid caught stealing bread from a stall owned by the Auditore? Her dominate hand was chopped off and she was sold into slavery. There are monsters that slink around and hide within the deadlands of Eisen, but they are merely animals ignorant in all forms of good and evil. Giovanni and his Squadrismo? They were the real monsters in need of slaying, but no one could do it.

The day of his twenty-fifth was like any other. He woke up, washed, got dressed, ate his morning meal, and went on patrol. Once you live long enough in this life your birthday becomes  just another day, an inconvenience at best as you must update your file being kept by the family's Impiegati. But on his way to the Clerical building a law was being broken in the Auditore Quarter of Firenze. Moving like a puppet on a string he ran towards the sounds of crime. A young boy was being held down by a group of large drunken men in fine clothes. Usually he was instructed to ignore crimes committed by men and women in finery. But this group didn't have anything making them as aligned with the Auditore, and he was already annoyed with being late to his meeting with the clerks, so Giovanni intervened. The first man was brought down by a pistol shot to his knee, the next was dropped by Giovanni's large metal plated gauntlet knocking him off his feet. The third man; the one on the ground with the boy was committing the actual crime. And judging by the blood and half dressed nature of both participants, the large man was violating the boy. A harsh and punishable crime even for Nobles, but where a Peasant committing such a heinous crime would be killed on the spot and his family branded for harboring such a sick individual. A Noble would simply be pulled away and the pinkie of both his hands chopped off. Painful and disfiguring yes, but he still lived and his family could maintain honor and ranking. Such is the law of the Auditore Quarter.

Wasting no time Giovanni did just that, gripping the lout by the back of his flabby neck he was roughly yanked off the boy and before he could announce himself the Sceriffo took out his stiletto and quickly cut off both the man's pinkes before kicking him roughly down the street. The bluecoat watched the tub of lard scuttle away cursing Giovanni's name and house. Definitely not aligned with the Auditore; he was well gone before the Sceriffo turned to address the ravaged boy, but the victim was gone only a puddle of blood and a decreasing trail of it down into the slums of the city quarter to show his passing. Usually reparations of some kind would be granted the victim of a crime if they lived, but there was nothing saying they need to be given nor that Giovanni had to pursue the victim once they are freed from the crime itself. With a shrug he returned to his original task of updating his file.

The rest of his day carried on as normal, minimal crimes, minimal punishments. He had his mid-day and evening meal then after some physical training, was on his way to bed. This was his life every day so as he entered his small cell he was not expecting the loud and furious summons that caused him to drop his coat before he could hang it up. Once he heard it though he quickly pulled his coat back on and rushed towards the Guardiano's or Warden's Office. The Warden is generally considered the leader of an individual Squadrismo, though he is often just a veteran Sceriffo who has become too old or injured to roam the streets any longer. It is very rare a patrolling Sheriff is ever called to the Warden's Office, Giovanni had never been summoned there before.

As he approached though, he began to piece together why he was being summoned. A young boy's cries were reverberating down the corridors as he approached and once his pushed open the door to the Warden's Office and saw both the men and the boy from earlier he knew what was about to happen. The boy had gone to take his own revenge on his ravager and failed, his small broken body and bloody face attested to that. The men had drug the child here and demanded that Giovanni punish the boy, and the punishment for attacking a noble? Death...unfortunately Giovanni had forgotten his sword, dagger, and pistol back in his room. All he had on were his heavy metal boots, but they would do just fine.

The boy was held down by the rapist and his fellows while the Warden passed judgement on the boy...no jury...just an execution. Still under the effects of the drugs from his evening meal he quickly and coldly stomped his heavy boot upon the boy's skull until it popped like an overripe grape. Then as the men laughed and collected their recompense from the Warden Giovanni fetched a serf to clean up the mess. That night Giovanni could not sleep, the drugs the Auditore put into his food to keep him without conscience wore off a few hours into the night once his was supposed to be asleep, and never had he stayed up to face the demons waiting for him beyond the miasmic cloud of the drugs. Tonight he did...and tonight...he finally realized all that he had done! He was a monster as black and evil as any bastardly creature of the night! He had ruined countless lives, killed dozens of innocent people..all for what?! For some encompassing entity of law?! This wasn't law and what he did tonight was not justice! The faces of his victims...the screams of their family's it!.... all ripped what frail structure of his mind there was. They needed to be stopped, first he broke into the kitchen and tried to find the drugs he was usually given to forget, but he couldn't find them! Next he rushed to the Infirmary and tried to batter the door down, but it was made of stronger stuff than him! So in a last ditch effort Giovanni found the family wine cellar and emptied shelf after shelf, breaking open bottles choking down wine and bits of glass to try and quiet the screams of those he had damned! But it was all too weak! He stumbled back to his room and quickly dressed this time remembering to strap on his sword, dagger, pistol, and grab whatever small pile of powder and shot he had in his room at the time.

Drunk now, but still the lives he ruined continued to torment him. He had only one plan left...true justice. He would find the men who had ruined the young boy and show them how little their money and fine clothes protected them from someone not of this world... how much their silk sheets and goose down comforters would shield them from a monster! Finding the men was easy follow the sounds of lives destroyed. The hitch was that each man had a residence in one of the three other quarters of Firenze. And each quarter was ruled over by a separate family as powerful and corrupt as the Auditore. Sceriffi did cross over jurisdictions from time to time, but were hardly allowed free reign outside of their quarters. Luckily as long as Giovanni could keep himself walking he wouldn't be stopped. He found the first man, the one he had shot in the knee, feasting on his balcony with his bandaged leg propped up on a gold pillow. Giovanni took another shot, this time blowing the man's fat head over the railing peppering the cobbled courtyard below with blood, bits of skull, and brain matter.

He was gone to the next house before anyone even responded to the gunshot. His next target, the man he punched in the face was found in the company of gamblers in a richly furnished tavern. Not caring what happens to him or the House Auditore, Giovanni stormed through the front door of the gambler's den, and hefted the man up by his throat before crashing him through the very gaming table he had been sitting at. Giovanni smashed his heavy mailed fist into the man's face until there was nothing put bloody paste and bone marring the once perfectly polished cherry wood floor. Once again he was gone before anyone moved a muscle towards alerting a nearby patroller. His last target was the rapist himself and he was at the furthest end of the city just before the gates that lead into the Vodacce wilderness. This was the man Giovanni was most eager to end, he now saw that just cutting off the beast's pinkies was too light a punishment. Like his peasant brethren, death would be the only recourse, but this one's death would different from the other two. This one would bleed out through the night and be a spectacle for the morning commuters to gawk at.

Giovanni found the bastard rutting his way through a brothel. The place was packed, but this Sheriff was on a mission. Brushing through the front door the people scattered like roaches as his heavy bloody boots hit the hard wood floors and rang like a death bell throughout the entire whore house. No words were spoken as he marched up the steps his sword drawn and ready. Moving without missing a beat he kicked in the door of each room searching for his last victim. The debauchery he witnessed in some of those rooms joined the faces of the innocent in his mind's eye as he cleaved the heads of men and women alike who he believed were breaking the law...his law. No less than ten bodies were pulled out of that brothel before the sickly fingers of the winter dawn clawed over the rooftops of Firenze. In the last room he found his original goal. Huddled naked in a corner with the limp body of a young girl stretched out upon the bed, blood staining the sheets like it stained the street before it.

Recognizing Giovanni the man stood up and shouted at him that he would have his head before days was out. And for a few seconds it stopped Giovanni's conquest, but just long enough for the girl upon the bed to wake up and cry weakly in pain. The dead yellow eyes of the Sceriffo's mask burned brighter as Giovanni lunged forward and planted his boot firmly on the Noble's chest kicking him bodily out the third story window and into a blubbery heap on the street below. Following suit the rogue cop slid down a street lamp and landed with a heavy clank before walking to the crying man as he began to plead for his life. Giovanni had heard it all before but this...thing's cries were the mewling of a piglet against the cacophony ripping through the officer's mind. With one swing of his sword he cut off the noble's manhood, with another he took his right hand, and with a final swing he took the man's left arm.

But even as his sword and coat were being stained with blood he was not done handing out justice. Dragging the unconscious man across the street he dropped him at the base of a street light and found a long length of rope. He tied a series of intricate knots around the rapist's remaining limbs then strung him up high to the cross beams of the post. He tied one final knot to a sewer grate and with that...finished his chore. The shocked onlookers stood dumbly as the monster sheathed his sword and vanished into the night. The precision and brutality of the crimes became known as La Notte della Giustizia Rossa , The Night of the Red Justice as retelling of the story to other Sceriffi said Giovanni wasn't wearing the blue coat of the Auditore nor the colors of any other Vodacce House. His coat was blood red and his black mask emitted smoke and fire like that of a demon. That story spread and allowed Giovanni to run into a bottle and stay there for many years.

It wasn't until three years ago that he saw the light of a sober day, and that was only after he got into a fight with a Cathay Qi master by the name of Zhao Jin. While the drunken former lawman held his own the cool precision of Zhao Jin put him firmly on his ass, the fight leaving him entirely as soon as his head hit the dirty wood of the dive bar they had been brawling in. When Giovanni next awoke he was on a ship for the first time in his life and was so overcome with wonder that he threw up all over the deck and promptly passed out for a further three days. Now, a thirty-three year old man with nothing to show for his years of experiences or value, he is slowly climbing his way out of the bottle with the help of a cranky old man who still sees some value behind the blurry eyes of a lifelong killer and perpetual drunk.

Dire of Blacklake

Name: Dire of Blacklake
Age: 356
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Dire of Blacklake

6'8, 300lbs of madness and muscle. He has no hair and his skin is the deep blue of midnight. His eyes are the red of a raging fire. He dresses in just a pair of black cloth pants most times but has been known to strap on black steel armor should it be needed.

Race: Orc
Occupation: Mercenary

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Strength and durability: Born and bred for combat Dire is stronger than three full grown human men and about as durable as a heavy stone wall.

Endurance: Dire can run and fight for hours on end can even go for a full day if needed.

Sense of smell: With a nose like a bloodhound Dire can hunt and track anyone most anywhere.

Sense of hearing: Like his nose he has an extremely keen sense of hearing and can hear even a pin drop a few rooms away.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Warrior: Expert of fighting with a weapon be it one-handed or two.

Hunter: Using his keen sense of smell and hearing, Dire can hunt down anyone given enough time. And his skill as a hunter have given him a skill with blow dart guns which he creates on his own and uses on his job.

Alchemist: A unique skill he picked up in his life as a Mercenary. He can use natural plants and other additives to create potions and poisons.

Intelligent Rage: Started from his years as a Berserker for the Blacklake Guard, Dire has learned to control the rage that comes so easily to him and can turn it on and off as needed.

Survivor: Combining his Alchemy skills and living for many years as an outcast has turned Dire into a stalwart survivor of all kinds of hell.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Large saber: The weapon in the above pic, it is his primary weapon and is enchanted to strike quickly and never dull.

Various Kinds of Poison: From paralytics, to hallucinogenic, to tranquilizers, to simple pain inducing poisons all of which can be applied to his sword or his darts.

Blow Dart Gun and darts: Created from a type of bamboo this blowdart gun is painted black and around two feet long. The darts range from three inches to six and are tipped with various kinds of poisons.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): When he needs one he wears a full suit of black steel armor.

Equipment: Food, water, spare clothing, his alchemy supplies, weapon maintenance kit, blowgun and dart creation tools, fire tools, parchment and charcoal(so he can keep records of his deals), and the skulls of his favorite targets.

Personality: Like your average Orc, Dire is brutish, aggressive, and doggedly determined. Unlike your average Orc though, he is keenly smart and able to control his savage side with astounding skill.

Likes: Food, money, blood, his weapons, his mate, his freedom, and alcohol
Dislikes: Being hungry, losing money, holy areas, holy relics, being imprisoned, and milk

Background: With a love of money, but a disdain for skulking around the shadows Dire is a born and bred Mercenary. His skills are born from necessity and his legacy is forged in blood and gold. Once a prominent member of the Blacklake Guard Mercenary Company (Berserker Detachment), Dire does not remember live before the Blacklakes. His earliest memory is looking up at the night sky and having to fight for his life before he even knew his name, and it wasn't until after he killed the three bears that had been loose upon him did he earn the name Krom. And from that day it was blood, training, eating, and sleeping. Dire found himself in the Berserkers and relished in their furious combat style.

For fifty years he fought alongside his brothers and sisters of the Blacklake Guard. They were all Mercenaries, but they were generally hired as a whole to supplement some established army as shock troops or heavy infantry. But it was actually during a rare two hireling contract that he and his mate Shiga, would became some of the last Blacklake Mercenaries. They were both Berserkers and some blond-haired human hero needed some extra muscle for some fool's errand into the Graycloud Mountains. It wasn't meant to be anything to boast about, as they reached the foothills though that is when a bad omen greeted them. A great dire wolf had been crushed under a black pine and it's blood had mingled with a small pond besides it turning the water red.
To the Orcs this was one of the darkest omens they knew, if this was to be believed their group was in great danger, Shiga implored Krom to abandon this contract and rush back to base. But Krom was bound by the honor of his word and after some back-and-forth he convinced Shiga that so was she. So with the human the two Orcs ventured into the Mountains and a month later they returned laden with treasure and high spirits. They fully intended to feast with their comrades on the shores of the Blacklake, but word came to them quickly that the omen they had seen came true. The Blacklake Guard was wiped out in a surprise attack by a wizard using resurrected spirits cursed inside their armor and saddled with immortality. The Orc clan was whittled down to only a handful of people who were forced to flee with their lives.

Without a clan and without a home the mated pair gave up their names and chose new ones to mark their new beginnings. Krom chose Dire and Shiga chose Scorn, for six years they have been wanderers and for six years they have been gathering up what remnants of the Blacklakes they could planning to strike back against the Dark Wizard and his damned minions.

Other: Dire and Scorn have no children, but they have adopted some of the younglings that managed to escape the Blacklake massacre. A boy named Grit and a girl name Whisper.

Gunnery Officer Amra

Name: Amra
Age: 28
Profession: Privateer

Rank/Position: Gunnery Officer
Appearance:

Amra

Personality: Loud and rambunctious he walks with confidence and power.  He has the utmost respect for whatever Captain he's under as long as  they respect him. Hard drinker and a hard fighter and he's positively  fearless, Carries  a code of honor on his chest where his father  tattooed it when he was a lad.

Weapons/Personal Effects: A pair of long cutlasses, a pair of pistols, and a sling.

Skills: Well-learned and versed in armed and unarmed combat. Years  aboard ships and among strange ports has taught him many things about  self-defense. Is very accurate in both his pistols and his sling winning  many a bet because of these skills. Knows how to navigate the sea and  stars, trained by the Navy in the use of the long guns. He's also agile  enough to climb almost anywhere on a ship.

History: Amra was born and raised on ships, his family were traveling  pioneers. Always looking for some plot of land to call their own with  very little success. Eventually they had to settle in one spot with his  father's health failing. So dropping anchor in the first port they liked  they settled down and became relatively landlubby. But soon Amra came  of age and decided to sea, his first mistress was calling him long  enough so gathering up his father's old weapons he left for the sea.

IN USE

Doctor Abernathy Ramsey

Name: Abernathy Ramsey
Age: 26
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Abernathy

Average height and slightly undersized for a man of his age. Built like a scholar more than anything. But for the sake of practicality he has done his best to stay physically fit even if on the small side.

Pale skin and yellowish blond hair as well as bright blue eyes that glow with magic round out Abernathey's appearance. And he is usually seen wearing long blue robes and tall brown boots, will done the above outfit or his armor when out and about.

Race: Magical Human
Job: Puppet Master Wizard and Alchemist

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Expert Puppet Master: As an expert in this rare school of magic. He can summon and bind elemental spirits to the bodies of puppets. Earth, Water, Fire, and Wind are those with which he is best at binding, but he is able to bind Elemental Spirits of Mind, Body, and Spirit as well though they can still prove difficult for him.

Magical Blood: Like all Mages, his magical blood gives him a longer than average lifespan as well as enhanced durability, intellect, and willpower.

Spirit Sight: Needed to interact with and control the elemental powers he works with as a puppet master. Also it allows him to spot magic traps from a decent distance away.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

General Wizard: While he specializes in Puppet Magic. He also has training in the other schools of magic. Destruction, Restoration, Illusion etc.

Alchemist/Plague Doctor: His livelihood and his most used skill besides his puppet magic. Ramsey is highly skilled in Herbology, Botany, potion brewing and medicine.

Light Blade fighter: Be it the foil gauntlet in his work uniform or the claw gauntlet in his normal appearance Abernathy has trained himself to use these weapons in conjunction with his magical powers.

Scholar: Always in pursuit of knowledge, Abernathy is constantly running experiments and learning new things. His naturally curious demeanor makes this more joy than work as well.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Magic: The most obvious weapon for a mage. Abernathy can use various spells and buffers to defend himself.

Claw Gauntlet: The weapon in his main image. And only carried with him when he's outside of the city. Made of fine and razor sharp steel.

Foil Gauntlet: The weapons in his work uniform. Like the claws it is made of a sharp and well built steel blade and is what he brings with him whenever going on a house call.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor):

Doctor Ramsey

Equipment: Ink and quill, spare clothes, water skin, empty potion bottles, a travel alchemy kit, various potions.

Personality: Abernathy is a quizzical man. Run by his desire to find peace and quiet to conduct his research and spellcasting. Socially awkward when such situations are forced upon him, but he is smart enough to keep himself from floundering about in most cases.

Likes: His constructs, magic, puppet magic, studying, peace and quiet, the middle of the night, early dawn, the Mage's Guild.

Dislikes: Loud things, being disturbed, the Mage's Guild, Mage Hunters, being too hot, thing not going according to plan.

Background: Dr. Ramsey is the latest member of a long line of Puppet Masters originating with the Witch Xandra Merning. A very ancient and powerful magic user that by most recordings was the first to explore this discipline of calling upon and binding elemental spirits to man-made  constructs, called puppets.

Despite its ancient roots it is still a very rare school of magic and often interconnected with the most shunned of magic schools Necromancy. Though any true practitioner will staunchly defend against such allegations by saying they only deal with elemental spirits that have never known physical life comparing it more closely to Conjuration than Necromancy.

But either way Abernathy has been practicing the skill his entire life being trained by his mother Abinal while his father Jesut taught him more traditional magical skills most notably Alchemy. Needless to say, Abernathy was destined for the life of a Scholar and Wizard.

He went through all training set to him and excelled. But like most Wizards not born into the aristocracy his social skills were very much lacking. He just never had the time or means to seek out love, not until he met Maria Winters. A Witch of the Destruction/Conjuration School he met while in school. Despite being from different schools of magic they were thick as thieves in those days. And stayed friends well into their lives as independent mages, but a year after they both graduated a terrible disease struck and blew apart their happy lives. Maria was struck low by the Sapphire fever and died within the year.

The young wizard was devastated and fell off the face of the earth for a few years. But he was not idle in his mourning. He dove headfirst into his work and by the time he returned to the public eye he was accompanied by a pair of Constructs named Jeremiah and Thalia and a desire to prevent anyone else from dying. Perfectly formed beings made of light weight metal and rubber. They were his first creations and among Puppet Masters the sign he was truly one of them. With their help and his new desire to heal Dr. Ramsey quickly became Visagot's most prominent Alchemist and Doctor. In the coming years three more constructs were made and his business soon grew into a Apothecary and medicine delivery service. Making friends with the  rich and powerful while at the same time keeping the little people in mind healing any and all that come looking for aid.

Other: Abernathy has only ever had one love, a fellow mage named Maria he met early on in his career as a wizard, but disease and misfortune tore her from his life and he hasn't tried again since.

IN USE

Malcolm Sun

Name: Malcolm Sun
Age 24
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Malcolm

Malcolm is a solidly built young man, he's 5'9 and weighs a stout 185 lbs of lean fit muscle. His skin is fair and because of a strange genetic trait his hair is naturally as green as his eyes. Most likely to be seen in a casual pair of blue slacks, comfortable loafers, and a short sleeved polo shirt. Though he does change outfits as he needs to.

Personality: Malcolm is an even mannered lad, he keeps a cool head even in bad situations. Many have said he's too serious, but he just likes keeping himself in control. When he's around his friends he loosens up some, becoming a somewhat dry humored joker, but even then he doesn't let himself get too crazy.


Background: The Sun family is one of the oldest and most reliable families in Greenmoor. The picturesque hamlet on the edge of the ancient Archer's Woods. Hunters throughout their lone line, they have maintained  level of peace and wealth not often seen in small towns. And even though hunting hasn't remained an overly lucrative way of life in the modern day the Suns have always been an adaptive clan.

They moved onto forestry, wildlife conservation, and soon found themselves the elected caretakers of the historical forest of Greenmoor itself. Paid by the county to preserve and patrol it. Been that way for one hundred years, and now on the cusp of the stewardship being transferred to the eldest child of the Sun family, the clan leaders find themselves in a position they never thought they would be in. The Eldest child is in fact two, Malcolm and his brother Matthew both fall into the purview of taking over as steward, but they are both very young and not as worldly as their parents in terms of taking care the forest.

As such they are both tasked with maintaining one of the family's businesses for two years before the decision will be made. He who does the best will be chosen as Steward of Archer's Wood. Now for Matthew, being the more active of the toy he plans to take over the Archers Gym in the town and promote physical health in the city of Alabaster Gate. Malcolm on the other hand has always had a secret love for cooking and baking, and chose to take over the Sun Burst Cafe from his ailing Aunt and run that. It sat on the sleepy road between Alabaster Gate and Greenmoor, but has always been a popular place for residents of both places. He took it over on the first day of spring a year ago, but its popularity has only grown and now he's looking for workers to help him.

Mortimer Grimm

Name: Mortimer Grimm
Age: 245
Gender(m/f): male

Appearance(pic and description):

Mortimer

Mortimer Grimm is a man of means and fine tastes wrapped around the body of a prize-fighter. 6 foot even in height and a sturdy 190 pounds of tight muscle. His green eyes glow with magic and his face is kept in a state of perpetual stubble. His wavy blond hair is kept slicked back and shoulder length. His face is strong and masculine, but not brutish one look will tell anyone he's a man of high education and razor edged ruthlessness.

Race: Wizard
Job: Resistance Mage

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4):

Magical Blood: Being a pure blooded Wizard comes with the perks of a long life, a durable body, and the ability to enhance his senses to a certain degree.

Arcane Knowledge: Trained from before the end of the world in magic, but ever since his magic has been geared towards destruction and melting flesh from bones. But he does know a few protective charms and Restoration spells.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Sword fighting: A classic skill and one invaluable skill for surviving in a world full of death.

Athletics: Running and jumping are always handy to not dying.

Staff fighting: Like sword fighting this skill is classic and life saving especially when you're using a magically runed staff to do it.

Runes: A skill that comes in handy, but takes time and can't be used a lot.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):
Edge of the Orchard Staff A 6 foot tall staff made from the wood of an ancient apple orchard that used to grow on the Grimm estates. It is runed with magic boosters and ones that make the staff extra durable.


Saber: The blade in the picture a simple steel saber with silver worked into the metal to make it more effective against monsters.

Dagger: The other blade in the picture good for staking hearts.


Personality: He puts survival and magic first and foremost. This world is fucked and he wants to get the hell out of it, ruthlessness, cunning, magical might, and that shining will to live on. This is what drives Mortimer on, he'd just as easily go by himself and take a pretty Witch with him to try and repopulate this next world. He treats those around him with as much respect as they pay him, but should they screw him they will be used as Hellhound bait.

Background: Born to the ancient and damn near unkillable line of Grimm, Mortimer was the second son before the end of the world happened, but after it he quickly became the only survivor. All of his family were born with great magic and had centuries of training behind them, but Mortimer had somethings they did not. Stupid luck and a careless ruthlessness that led men of his line like the pirate Captain Sebastian Grimm into infamy.

Being skilled in elemental magic gave Mr. Grimm an edge over the gun-totting Doomsday preppers and monster hunters around the world. He can punch holes through steel while bullets need to be specially made to do that. He knows spells that can banish a demon with a thought while others need time to prep ingredients and scribble things on the floor to make traps. Magic has many advantages, but like all things it has it's downside. Magic wears a body down and in a world of madness using it too much brings you closer to the edge. Also those with magic blood were among the first to be killed, the Grimms held out longer than most, but like all that stood against the end they fell forcing anyone left to run for their lives. And with much shame Mortimer joined them, though he never lost his feet or his head he joined the ranks of the low-brow monster hunters and preppers he once hated and has been fighting with the resistance ever since.

Now for over one hundred years Wizard Grimm has been sending Gum Men who are susceptible to magic and Monsters back to the pit from whence they sprung. But after years of nonstop magic using Mortimer began seeing the ominous shadows of the Outer Gods in his dreams and whenever he closed his eyes. It was the madness of this world and he found it got worse and worse each time he used magic. He held off it for a few years and was finally able to get a full night's sleep, now he uses his magic only when absolutely necessary relying on his wits and other skills to win the day. He now works as an advisor and guard to the Druid. A mystic and mankind's last hope at survival and eventually victory over the Outer Gods and their minions.

His days are spent fathering the new generation, leading high risk scout patrols, and planning with the Druid and Jason to take the fight directly to the Monsters.

Where were you the day the sun didn't shine?: At the blasted remains of my family's estate dueling my brother Malik with rapiers made from the bones of giants.

IN USE

Do'Magazo

Name: Do' Magazo
Race: Khajiit(Cathay-Raht i.e. Jaguar-man)
Age: 28
Gender: Male
P.o.B: Riverhold, Elsweyr
Occupation: Caravan Guard and Former Pirate.

Appearance (pic or description): 

Do'Magazo

6'7, 220lbs, pure white fur with black markings he has a solid healthy body, has four gold earrings in both of his ears and his mane is black like his markings and perfectly braided and clean, his eyes are an autumn orange.

Equipment(pic or description):  Well-made and highly tempered Steel Armor minus the helm. He carries a well tempered Elven Bow with a surplus of 30 arrows, an Elven saber with a Health Sap enhancement, dagger and shield all highly tempered. Outside of battle he usually wears well fitting shirts, pants, and boots. He carries spare clothes, potions, a lucky Ebony amulet that his father gave him which was presented to him by the legendary warrior Allester Winterblade as thanks for saving the Nord's life, around 1,000 septims, and a secret stash of moon sugar.

Prime Skills: Archery and One-Handed
Secondary Skills: Heavy Armor, Block, and Speech

Personality: Extremely kind and noble. Being a highly trained warrior he often avoids conflict with anyone he views as weaker than he not wanting to look like a bully. But when up against someone on his level or even above it he's merciless and lightning quick in combat.

Background: Born the oldest of a six cub litter he was pushed into the role of surrogate caregiver and provider for his siblings. Their father was a traveling merc and their mother was Caravanner like most Khajiit that don't turn to thievery to get by, so he and his siblings grew up on the road learning both the Caravan trade and surviving in the various climates of Tamriel. Magazo took particular interest in the way of the blade learning from the other guards in his mother's caravan as well as any wanderer that took time out of their day to shop the Caravan's more exotic wares.

This was where he met the legendary warrior Allester accompanied by his father Do'Gezit on one of their song worthy adventures passing through Riverhold. They were both dressed in Ebony Armor and wielded similar weapons they looked like figures straight from legend and the way their armor shone in the sunlight was the final spark the young man needed to set his life's path as a warrior. Lord Winterblade taught him so many things he didn't even know were real and by the end of the month he was begging them both to take him on at least one adventure.

At first they were set on saying no speaking of the endless dangers in the land and how a boy of 13 wouldn't last long against most of them but using the legendary cleverness of his people he managed to warm them up to the idea and thus began the Prince of the Wilderness's reign in the hills and forests of Southern Tamriel. He had set paw in every province and nearly every city in the south and had learned much about his chosen profession even traveling with Lord Winterblade and his father from time to time.
In that time Magazo had stumbled upon the nearly forgotten martial art of the Whispering Fang, along with the Redguard, the Khajiit are well known for their skill in hand-to-hand combat. He was on a mission for the Riverhold Fighter's Guild slogging through the deep jungles of Elsweyr sent to retrieve a lost family heirloom of some kind that the fool son had lost playing adventurer. He was hot on the trail of the item when he found himself on the edge of a Pirate's camp staring at the golden necklace he was supposed to recover. He was only 17 at this point and still young enough to think he was unstoppable. Sneaking into the camp he had almost managed to get the amulet before he felt heavy hand chop a his neck and dropped him like a bag of rocks.

He awoke tied to the mast of a ship at sea with a heavily scarred and ornamented Cathay-Raht leering at him. This was Dar Ri'sallidad or the Thief Martyr as he sometimes called himself, he was the Captain of the Wave Saber a rebel Privateer from Khenarth's Roost working with the Maormer trying to free Elsweyr from the Thalmor. At first Dar wanted to kill young Magazo, but according to him he saw too much of himself in the young Khajiit and he loved himself too much to kill the kid. So instead he took Magazo on as a Cabin-Boy and Deckhand. It was a mostly Khajiit crew with a few of the strange looking Maormer being masters of the sea helping them. It was on this crew of rebels Magazo not only excelled at being a Warrior and Sailor but earned his title of Do. Dar taught him everything he knew about the Whispering Fang Martial Art the strikes, the footing, making sure to look for openings and how best to capitalize on them. The Whispering Fang is a dangerous art that specializes in ending fights quickly with joint attacks but temper the fighter with controlled movements.

From 17 to 23 Magazo was a crewman aboard the Wave Saber, and joined them on numerous runs smuggling items all around Tamriel even making trips up to Skyrim during the Stormcloak Rebellion. It was here he ran into Lord Winterblade again. The old Nord was surprised to see how well the young Cathay-Raht had grown into his "jaguar man" body. It was also here he had his first real battle with the Thalmor and their Imperial lap-dogs. A stray dog they had taken on board out of pity was a spy for the High Elves and set up an ambush. Winterblade and his squad fought alongside the Khajiit and beat down the ambush leaving no Mer alive. They suffered only a couple of casualties but Magazo was gravely injured and Dar reluctantly left his protégé in the hands of the Stormcloaks to heal.
A few weeks passed before Mag was back to full health and stuck on land, he couldn't very well join the Stormcloak rebellion so he found his Aunt Ahkari's Trade Caravan and joined as a guard. From the age of 23 to 27 he wandered around Skyrim with his Aunt and felt all he had learned with his mother come rushing back and soon he was helping sell items as well as protect them. It was a few days before his 28th birthday when he saw Captain Winterblade's notice in The Bannered Mare. He wasn't able to meet the first send off date with his Aunt getting sick and him not wishing to leave her side.

The 13th came and went and he did his best to follow rumors of the ship but they just seemed to vanish shortly after leaving Solitude. His Aunt made a full recovery and knew her dear Nephew missed the adventure of a lifetime because of his kind heart. As soon as she could convince him she sent Mag to Farrun where the ship was due to make port next. With just his armor, weapons, and his lucky amulet which had saved his life during that ambush, he made a beeline for High Rock. He arrived two days before the Storm Breaker made port and now seeks to join up and see if he remembered his lessons as a sailor.

IN USE

Rourke Winterblade

Name: Rourke Winterblade
Age: 27
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Birthsign: Warrior
Class: Highlander specializes in mountain terrain and combat

Major Skills: Two handed, one handed, Hand to Hand, Athletics, Acrobatics, Armorer, Block, and Restoration.
Minor Skills: Speech, Sneak, Archery, lockpick, Alchemy.

Appearance: [hide=Rourke]

[/hide]

Personality: Rourke was once a proud and noble warrior from an ancient and mighty clan that could put their name into to be High Kings and Queens if they so wished.  But Rourke was never one to like being in the shadow of his family's legeacy, everything he did was to prove he was his own man. But pride will always be the quickest way to fall, after serving and being dischaged from the Legion he became a sellsword with a willingness to do any job as long as it paid.


Bio:  He was born in Windhelm to Sigfried Winterblade, the Commander of the Windhelm Guards and his mother Brunhilde who died in childbirth. Faust was away with the guards most of the time so all the young man had were his Grandparents. Throughout his childhood Rourke was put to bed with tales of his ancestor and namesake Rourke Winterblade the Divine Avenger. The last Champion of Cyrodiil and possibly one of the greatest heroes in Tamriel's history his name alone used to be a household word, but now the only remnant of the man is an old worn down statue in a forgotten part of the Imperial City and of course  in this household. Even the Knights of the Nine and the Blades seemed to have forgotten the great warrior. Needless to say young Rourke had a lot to live up to, so like his father he joined the Windhelm Guard and eventually the Imperial Legion in hopes of bringing honor to the name but on a mission in the Gnoll Mountains to kill the Wulvish his entire squad was killed in a botched recon mission. Normally he'd mourn them move on but it was his fault he messed up the coordinates and led them right to the center of the Bandit stronghold.  He barely got out with his life his only saving grace was his healing skills. He was soon discharged from service and left Skrym for good until he got a letter from his Grandma telling of his Grandfa's health. He returned to Windhelm just in time to see the old Patriach pass onto Sovngarde. His reputation as the lowest caliber of mercenary after his humilating defeat turned his parents cold towards him with threats to disown and disavow them if he stayed in thier presencs too long. He did his mourning of his grandfa and left before the new moon. Having no where else to go he stayed in Skyrim wandering his way through the icy wastes doing whatever bloody job he could for septims from dungeon crawling to help a merchant boost his stocks, to killing bandits and giants for bounty work, to being the hired muscle at an inn.

Weapons: He carries a Highland Claymore as well as a basket-hilt broad sword, the Targe of the Blooded, and a Huntsman's bow.

Appearance: Rourke is your average sized Nord only he has more muscle thanks to his class and his hair is black that keeps it, his eyes are also a starling green. He wears a suit of customized armor smithed together from various bits of steel and leather armors he calls it Dusk Hunter armor.

Other: He is currently stinking up a corner in the Moorside Inn waiting for someone to come in with a Bounty letter.

Captain Allester Winterblade

Name: Allester Winterblade
Race: Nord
Age: 55
Gender: male
P.o.B: Windhelm, Skyrim
Occupation: Lord, Adventurer, Captain.

Appearance (pic or description): 6'8, 210lbs, slightly tanned skin, he has earthy brown eyes with two long scars down his left cheek, medium length grayish-red hair with two braids in the front, he has a thick beard and is dressed in a white undershirt with a heavy brown jacket over it. He's also wearing thick leather pants and black boots, he's always wearing an amulet of Talos and his ring of matrimony.

Equipment(pic of description): He now has suit of silver lined Nordic armor. It still had the overall  black and dark brown but weaved throughout the material like the wind  blowing snow was pure and brightly shining silver. The boots are higher and were more like greaves, they also have a few small spikes on the kneecap. The gauntlets, like the boots go all the way up his arms to nearly his shoulder and it has three long spikes along the forearm, they're shaped like small scimitar blades. The last addition was the helmet, it had a removable face mask that actually looked like a bear's open mouth with teeth engraved in it.

He also carries a highly tempered and enchanted Nordic Greatsword with Fire and Lightning enchantments he's named Firestorm. An Enhanced Dwarven Crossbow with no bolts right now but he will buy some later. And during times when Firestorm would be unwieldy he carries an unenchanted Stalhirm long sword that he wields with his new Nordic Carved Shield. He also carries a fair number of Healing Potions.

Primary Skills: Two-handed and Smithing
Secondary Skills: Heavy Armor, One-handed, and Block

Personality: Lord Winterblade is an honorable, intelligent, and kind man at least when not in battle then he become as cold and brutal as the blizzards of Eastmarch.

Background: Born in the 4E 151 to the ancient and revered clan Winterblade, Allester made a name for himself early on as an adventurer and explorer. Oft-times running away from his parents home to dive into caves and and ruins looking for treasure and monsters to fight. And despite being armed with a simple iron sword given to him by father ,the young man showed much promise as a warrior he even came back victorious from his little excursions from time to time. Returning with what loot he could carry he was welcomed back as a hero..at least until he got back to Gray Stone Manor where his parents were waiting for him. They were proud of his success but also furious at his continued disobedience.

Despite their constant lecturing Allester's adventures continued until he was sixteen then he joined the Legion and adventured across Tamriel discovering his true love of Two-Handed Weapons most specifically the greatsword. He quickly became a renowned warrior and shrewd leader of soldiers making a name himself from province to province. He served  honorably and when the Great War rolled around he was one of the first  to sign-up to fight the Aldmeri Dominion. He was present in both of the main battles, but after the Emperor showed his true colors and signed the White-Gold Concordat giving the Thalmor exactly what they wanted the Legion became a bad taste in his mouth and he left as soon as the chance presented itself. He was twenty-four at this point and with no major desire to return home right away he felt the urge of the road again and  spent the next twenty years of his life wandering Tamriel getting work as a merc, a Fighter's Guildsman, Smith, Sailor, and hero when the times called for it. Even making a Pilgrimage to Bruma where the statue of his great, great, Grandfather was still standing albeit worn and chipped. He had greatly helped the Empire in the Oblivion crisis and his hometown had honored him with a statue. Roruke Winterblade, Hero of Bruma and Warrior for good. 10th of Frost Fall 3E 433. He amassed great wealth by the power of his sword arm and the quickness of his wit even buying a home and starting a family in the chilly embrace of Cyrodiil's northernmost city, he sent much of his wealth back home to his parents only needing so much to keep his wife Heidi and his daughters Ari and Sonja comfortable. Around the year 195 Allester got word his parents were deathly ill and were asking for him to return home as soon as he could. It had been many years since he'd even thought about Skyrim or his parents, but the long quelled feelings bubbled up from his stomach and into his heart. Finishing up his quest for the Fighter's Guild he rushed home to Bruma relating the news to his family before he made his way back to Windhelm to be at his parents' bedside.

He arrived just in time for the Feast of the Dead, the usually solemn day was exceptionally bitter to the man because his parents died in the final hour of the Feast. Leaving him the sole heir of an immense wealth and the Patriarch of one of Skyrim's most influential and powerful Clans. He had just sent his parents to Sovengarde and was settling into the life as a wealthy lord even bringing his family from Bruma to live with him when Jarl Ulfric began his Stormcloak Rebellion. While Lord Winterblade(as he was going by now) agreed with the Jarl's views on Talos banning and the Emperor being a spineless dog he didn't agree with how Non-Nords were being treated. Many non Nords had proven themselves extremely valuable allies in his past and he just couldn't bring himself to damn all of them for the arrogance of a faction of Altmer. He would join his old friend Brunwulf Free-Winter in defending the Dunmer and Argonians in Windhelm even opening his home to them if they needed his help. While the Jarl and his Stormcloaks disliked this about the old veterans no one could deny their skill and deeds of battle. So many of the youngers kept their mouths shut for fear of being trounced by the large men and Ulfric couldn't help but respect them. Six years dragged on and the Civil War ravaged the land, eventually though Ulfric drove the Empire back beyond the borders of Skyrim and spent a year repairing the damages and establishing toleration laws thanks to the urging of Lord Winterblade. It took that whole year before peace was restored and Allester could settle down and raise his young daughters to be proper Nord ladies.

Five years following the final days of the Stormcloak Rebellion, Ulfric was made High King and he began expanding and improving upon anything and everything he could. One of these projects involved creating an updated map of Tamriel. He knew of many skilled Sailors he could ask to undertake such a venture, but Lord Winterblade had proven himself the most adept and honorable men he knew and all other candidates fell away. Contacting the Lord he arranged to pay for the voyage and give his royal blessing upon the ship and crew. Allester agreed to Captain the voyage on the condition he could allow anyone to join his crew Nord or not. The High King agreed and Lord Winterblade sent out notices to every tavern he could think of and prepared for the journey heading to Solitude to await his new crew.

Master Hillard Redscar

Name: Hillard Redscar
Nickname: The Protector
Age: 20 (but is an ageless spirit) 
Gender: Male
Race: Human/Spirit
Appearance Description/Photograph:

Hillard

6'7 220lbs, the armor can change it form to that of normal clothes when he's not in battle. These normal clothes are a pair of brown leather pants, black boots, and a white shirt. Under the armor he is a very muscular and tanned man with bright red eyes, and white hair.

Orientation: Straight
Side: Council
Element: Body

Abilities

Body Mystic abilities

Super Strength: Hillard is extremely strong able to bend metal with his bare hands and punch through it as well.

Super Speed: He is one of the fastest Mystics, being second to Arteimos who is the freaking Mystic of Storms so that's a given.

Super Agility: Hillard has super cat like agility.

Super Durability: Hilllard can take damn near every level of physical damage and quite a few magical.

Body Magic: As the Body Mystic, Hillard has an array of Body related spells and enhancements.

• Hold: He can use Body Magic to paralyze someone.
  
• Enhance: He can enhance his own or an allies physical prowess and make them fight harder and longer.
  
• Hinder: On the flip side he can also weaken an enemy's physical prowess, but the duration of the curse depends on how strong the enemy is to begin with. If they are strong enough the curse won't work.
  
• Sense: He can sense the presence of another body, living, dead, or artificial. It has it's limits though, the ability only goes up to 50 feet away, and if there is enough obstructions in the way like a mountain or very thick walls, or magic barriers the ability is nullified.
  
• Read: If someone has a physical weakness or injury he knows it and can work with it either to injure or help them.
  
• Heal: He can use Body Magic to heal injuries but only those that are physical in nature(broken arm, internal bleeding etc). Injuries of the Mind or Spirit are outside his sphere of power.
  

The Aegis

Identical in size to a Spartan shield but can change it's shape if the wielder desires it to.[/hide]

The Aegis: A mysterious object of great power. It's origin is unknown but it has played significant roles in past conflicts. It protects against all kinds of attacks both normal and magic. It doesn't have much effect on its wielder aside from making them a touch wiser and strong because of it's size and weight. It also has the skill to turn those who look into the glowing eyes to stone.

Body Mystic Skills

Being an ageless suit of armor The Protector itself absorbs the skills and knowledge of its present user.

Hillard is the very first of The Protector's users so he brings a master's grasp of war and anatomy to the spirit's knowledge reservoirs.

He is the master of most weaponry and forms of Martial Arts.

He has a firm grip on tactics and leadership.

His knowledge of anatomy and the nature of the body in general is impeccable. This is helped by his mastery of many Martial Arts.

Weapon: He is highly skilled with any type of weapon, but his favorite is the sword in the pic.

Personality: Hillard is a highly honorable man and is the epitome of White Knight. There is no one in the Council more likely to go on a one man war on the Mahavalli's forces.  While it's at times commendable it is also what he caused him trouble in the past. It's rare he's sent out on his own to do something, it annoys him but he also sees the why of it.

Brief History:  Hillard is of a race of men that were born and bred to battle. They are the precursors to the Spartans, and many barbarian tribes known in the world like the Celts, Gauls, and the many Nordic Races. Hillard Redscar himself is the Prime or best warrior in his tribe.

It is because of this that he was given a position on the Council as the Mystic of a third piece of the Trifecta. His skill lies in Body Magic and the power of the Physical world. When this war began Hillard was the first to volunteer and was given The Protector's armor to bolster his already impressive skills.

Other: While a hot blooded and fully capable lover, Hillard's existence makes lasting relationships and starting a family difficult

Anders "Geppetto" Mars

Name: Anders Mars, but is known only as Geppetto by most people.
Age: 38

Gender(m/f): Male

Appearance(pic and description):

Geppetto

A man of an even 6 foot height and 185 pounds of lean muscle. His head is completely enclosed in his helmet and his life support is tied into the apparatus so he can never remove it. His clothing rarely changes and the circuits that power his mods glow under his skin.

Race: Cyborg
Job: Mechanic

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4): 

Willpower: Born from a lifetime of hardship and overcoming odds, Geppetto is a font of unbreaking willpower.

Focus: Because of the nature of his past job and the need of his augs Geppetto has a very keen level of focus bordering on tunnel vision.

Intelligent: While not a genius, Geppetto is blessed with a mind that can easily learn to new tricks.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Free-Juggler: A skill he acquired from his need to keep moving to stay alive Anders is one of the galaxies top Free-Runners and Jugglers. Able to move across any landscape with flair and efficiency Geppetto is man of constant motion.

Expert Shooter: As part of his former life as an Assassin Geppetto is skilled in the use of  any kind of small arms weapon/

Explosives: From tossing grenades, to rigging up an intricate network of building destroying C4, to disarming I.E.Ds Anders is skill with things that go boom.

Fighter: Like the rest of his skillset, Geppetto learned to be a vicious hand-to-hand fighter from his years as a Hired Killer. While not a master he knows many ways to inflict pain without using a weapon.

Fixer: His newest skill and one he feels the best about using Geppetto can fix most anything of a Mechanical nature from changing the transmission in a '64 Mustang to reattaching a robot's blown off arm. If it has nuts and bolts this man can fix it.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons): Despite giving up the life of a trained killer, logic dictate Geppetto be armed at all times.

Daggers: The weapons in the picture these are still kept in specially made sheathes built into his coat. Made of a high end carbon fiber steel they can cut through simple armor and cleave the limbs from unprotected enemies if needed.

Laser RCW: The mostly unknown love child between a sub machine gun and a laser rifle the RCW is a weapon built to resemble the old world Thompson sub machine gun, but instead of bullets it fires powerful laser bolts that can burn through your average mercenary armor.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): As an assassin Geppetto relied more on speed and surprise to bring down enemies so armor was never a thing he thought about. But since his life has slowed down he has taken to lining his coat and pants with ballistic fiber and energy resistant resin that can allow him to take a few pops from smaller weapons and not fail.

Augs(Limit of 3):

Jadisi Advanced Assassin's helmet: Geppetto's most advance and most hated augment. The helmet that has made him a perpetual motion device gives him a high end rebreather and air filtration system. It also gives him a type of wide scanning ability that allows him study an entire landscape should he be high enough to get a bird's eye view of it. Learning the terrain and potential dangers he might face.

Samualla enhanced heart and circulation augment: A mechanical heart that pumped electrically charged blood through Geppetto's veins and circularity system. It gives him the strength and agility of an athlete in their prime. The heart gives the initial charge while the circulatory system keeps the blood and muscles supercharged as long as Geppetto is sufficiently charged.


Personality: A man spurned by society and damned by the Gods of this Age to suffer for his humanity. Geppetto has been burned by many, those who were supposed lift him up and make his life easier. Family, friends, even the corporation that gave him a second life. A hard man with a hard view on life, but a desire to bring about the end of his masters and a sharp wit gives him the social skills needed to find and keep allies. After destroying those who made him a monster Geppetto has found new purpose as a Mechanic and the peaceful life has allowed him to find peace with his fate and his augs though he still bears a burning dislike towards them.

Likes: Crooner music, the night, juggling, fixing and taking things apart, this new life, and the sunrise.
Dislikes: His augs, stopping, corporations, rap music, getting his augments worked on, and never being able to sleep.

Background:

Background

The man now known as Geppetto begins on the lower end of the middle class. Youngest of six children and one of two left alive, his sister Ally being the other. His parents were two of the millions of drone worker bees on Terra Prime. They were good parents, but they were happy with their lot in life and saw no desire to improve it. Anders was different, he wanted a better life, he wanted to live with a full stomach for a day and sleep in his own bed without his cuddle happy sister sleeping next to him.
He worked any number of jobs he could find and saved up his money. He did this for seventeen years, and eventually he managed to save up enough for an electric bike which allowed him to travel to the main city for work. And he did this managing to land the perfect job with a corporation, starting in the mailroom, Anders was well on his way to living his dream of a good life with good food and his own bed.

His inherent drive and desire drove him to excel in this place and eventually drove him into the clutches of the corporate espionage. From twenty to twenty-six he was making more money than he ever thought he could and even had his own place near the corporate building. Life was good, he didn't even mind doing some of the more unsavory things as long as the pay was good. When competition grew among companies though he was forced to undergo something he never signed up for...at least he thought so...until they showed him his contract and the Augment Clause. The young man fought them with all he could even calling in lawyers to try and get out of it, but the company had him by the throat. He lost his money and wound up getting sedated as they augmented him, when he awoke his head was trapped inside a helmet and his body felt heavy and wrong. He tried to escape, but they had him and he as forced to do his job with these abominable augs. He had no choice, but he would bide his time, by age thirty he had a plan though. He had mastered his augments, making his curse his blessing, he yanked out their control nodes and fought his way out of the corporate building, vanishing into the night. He was on the run for ten years slowly putting plans into motion to kill those that created him.

A further six years would pass before Geppetto brought down the monsters that damned him, he watched their steel and glass castle burn down around them and he contemplated finding a nice quiet rooftop and sitting down letting the charge on his augs run out and die watching the sun come up. But his lover Turquoise found him on one of her courier missions through the city. As he had helped her she helped him, together they fled Terra Prime and lived the life they had always wished to live. Free from the monsters that sought to control them, it was bliss. She continued to work as a courier and he took up work as a Mechanic quickly learning the skill. They roamed from planet to planet almost forgetting their pasts, but all sins come back to those who sow them. Turquoise died via another assassin's bullet, and after doing some hunting Geppetto found out the man was sent by the underlings of the Corporation. One last time he took up the gun and killed his last man. After that he was back in the wind and two years ago he was hired onto the Black Star payroll as the Mechanic, and since then he has won back the peace he so dearly earned.

Other: He believes a man can only have one true love in his life. His was Turqoise, but he is not shut off from finding someone else to spend his time with.

Master Izaak Orn

Name: Izaak Orn
Age: 45
Race: Miraluka

Appearance:

Izaak

5'8 and weighing in at 200 pounds. As it shows in his picture he's got black hair with some gray streaks going through it. Is mostly seen as above but with the proper Jedi Robes. His voice carries the deep hint of power that comes with deep understanding of the Force, the tone is usually level and almost hypnotic.

Izaak is a man that lives his life by the Force, it thrives in him and gives him the air of confidence and serene wisdom. His body is the product of years dedicated to Physical Training, deep meditation, and hours upon hours of Lightsaber training. Heavily muscled and fantastically toned his skin is tanned from being in the sun for training and missions.

His face is always clean-shaven and his hair is kept short. He believes it helps people learn to trust him if he looks somewhat taken care off. Having spent much time in duels and in combat though, Izaak's body is a map of old scars. While his mastery of defense keeps him from harm he was young an inexperienced once as well.

While much of his time is spent in his Wanderer Armor, Izaak does own dark brown set of Jedi Adventurer Robes complete with sturdy tan boots and a black utility belt.

Skills:

Defensive Lightsaber Mastery: Izaak's skill and fame lies in his expertise with his lightsabers, a Curved-Hilt saber and a Guard Shoto. Being the Master of defensive combat gives him the ability to counter and bring down most other Combat Styles with minimal effort and difficulty. But an opponent that is much stronger or faster than Izaak can overpower his mostly defensive style.

Physical Fitness: Because of his chosen Forms, Izaak has a massive amount of strength, endurance, agility, and speed.

Hand-to-hand Combat: The Way of the Aegis carries over well into normal unarmed combat, but like before a much stronger or faster opponent could overpower him.

Force Prowess: While he's highly skilled in the Ways of the Force and being a Miraluka, he uses it to see the world around him. Though he does not use the Force in open combat if he can help it.

Blaster Adept: While not his favored skill he is a decent shot with Blasters and Blaster Rifles.

Techno Adept: Izaak's Technological skills are dedicated mostly to security. It makes him skillful enough to get him through an array of weapons and systems.

Stealth Expert: Being a Sentinel and a Shadow on top of that, Izaak has great skill when it comes to stealth techniques.



Talents: Born Force Sensitive, he naturally uses Force Sight, Force Vision, and Force Sense.

"Sees" via the Force and has a highly attuned skill with it despite not using it for anything more than he has to. His natural Force Sights gives him enhanced speed and reflexes even by Jedi standards.

Because of his combat style Izaak has an immense amount of Focus and Self-Control.

Weapons


A yellow bladed Curved-Hilt lightsaber with a Mandalorian iron hilt

  A blue bladed Guard Shoto lightsaber with a Mandalorian iron handle.


Gear: A suit of lightsaber resistant armor made of Mandalorian iron and Armorweave. It's heavily modified and he calls it Jedi Wanderer Armor. That aside he carries a well worn brown robe, and various tools needed to survive in the wild if needed all stashed in his black utility belt.


Rank: Master

Apprentice(s): Izaak has trained five Padawan in his time. Most recently he trained Jedi Knight Rhonan. He's a firm but well-liked teacher.

Force Powers: Pull/Push, Jump, Speed, Focus, Telekinesis, Emerald Lighting(Light Side Equivalent of Force Lightning), Mind Trick, Force Immunity, Force Healing.

Lightsaber Discipline: The Way of the Aegis. Izaak has trained himself to be a living embodiment of the Jedi's Non-Aggressive Philosophy. As such, he has molded his considerable Lightsaber skill into the perfect defense mixed with perfectly timed and damaging offensive maneuvers.

Because of this battle style Izaak usually only fights with his Curved-Hilt Lightsaber, leaving the Guard Shoto holstered. It is only when he finds himself against a truly powerful opponent that he brings both weapons to force.

The Forms he has mastered are as followed
Form I Shii-Cho, The Determination Form.
Form III Soresu, The Resilience Form.
Form V Shien/ Djem So, The Perseverance Form.
Form VI Niman, The Moderation Form.

Specialization

Sentinel Shadow: Using a skillful combination of Martial Prowess and Force Powers. A Sentinel is trusted with more intense and covert missions. Hunting down Sith, gathering intel, helping to locate lost artifacts and many more things. Being one of the few Sentinels with enough skill to handle large missions himself Izaak is often sent out to deal with things in a more covert way. While he isn't against help he mostly works by himself.

Droids/Pets: None
Ship: None

Personality: Izaak is a kind, yet somewhat stiff individual. He has a serene and distracted demeanor. Many of his students have found themselves on the other end of his stiff views. Going through hours of repeating the same motions until the perfect it, exercising more than sitting down, spending long hours in meditation and more. His staunch views are at full power when he's on a mission or teaching a student, they may not always like it, but in the five he's taught none have complained when it saved their lives. Though he may never show it, deep down he enjoys it and is happy to train the next future of Jedi, his training will at least ensure they live long enough to worry about it. It is very hard to catch this man off-guard whether it be in combat or in social situations. He enjoys jokes and pleasant chatter when the mood strikes. This instances are rare though, the Order is his life and it's what he believes in with all his heart.

Virtues: Kind, Focused, Level-headed, and Patient.

Vices: The arrogance that comes with great skill and experience is a creeping vice that has stole along behind him for many years.
He has been called too black-and-white when it comes to his views on the Force and the way of the Jedi. At times it has caused him to come into conflict with some of the more lax Knights and students.
This has also given him a problem with Fixation. His focus, when it is set on something is unbreakable even at times to his degradation.

Background

Born on the somewhat distant planet of Alpheridies forty-five years ago. Izaak was born in the final ravenous days of the Civil War. Like many Miraluka, he was born with the Force coursing through him with his father Jedi Knight Jiraz being one of the few Jedi left after the Civil War at the time. He weaned Izaak on stories of the Jedi Order and the many great Heroes of the past.
The young boy was fast on his way to becoming a Padawan in what was left of the Order. His father taught him the basics of Force Control and Lightsaber Combat which the young lad was quite excellent at, sadly the Force decided now was not the young Miraluka's time. The night Izaak was to officially begin his formal training, his father was called away to fight in the final battles of the war.
This would be the last time either Izaak or his mother Eliek would see Jiraz alive. News of battles came few and far-between for this distant dot of civilization out in the cosmos. His mother and he could only put trust in the Force and carry on with their lives. At eight Izaak was working odd jobs for local Farmers and Merchants as his mother worked as a teacher for local children.

Continuing this day-to-day life for a few more years, Izaak practiced his saber skills every day after work. It kept him fit and able to focus on things other than his father and he even managed to stop worrying until a knock came on their door one night. At it was a man with the Light Side of the Force surging powerfully around him, but with the slight gray fog that comes when bad news is in their mind. The man introduced himself as Jedi Knight Sarik a Sentinel and a very close friend of Jiraz, the news he and his mother had been waiting for had come. Jiraz was killed in an ambush set up by the Sith, it pained the boy and his mom, but it also made them proud to know he died fighting for Order and Justice.
Sarik was grieved to have brought this news, but he respected Jiraz greatly and thought it was the least he could do for the man. He also came to see if the old Miraluka was right in how strong Izaak was, as he studied the boy he saw much promise in the young man and knew his old friend was right. It was decided that Izaak would continue his training under Sarik's guidance. The next day Izaak packed what he was told and left his home to begin his official Padawan Training. With the Order in such disarray most of Sarik's and Izaak's training was done by the Knight's word and example. He missed his mother deeply these first fews days, but eventually as Sarik's lessons sunk in the longing faded under the bright light of the Force and the knowledge that his training would be to protect innocents like his mother.

The men visited Alpheridies often both to check up on Eliek who seemed to remain as young and kind as ever and a young prospect Sarik discovered in the Tarell household. A fellow Mirluka, a young girl with the curiosity that made the stars groan. Upon this first visit, Izaak discovered a life long friend and equally as long headache, Seris Tarell. She was many years his junior, but her curiosity and eagerness had a way of making the usually grim young man smile. He answered what questions he could and taught her what he had learned from Master Sarik. It was a pleasant distraction from the woes and worries of being a number on the Galactic Most Wanted List. Living by what credits they could and getting in contact with any Jedi they could, they ventured across the former Republic, fighting in battles, finding Sith Cells, and slowly helping to rebuild the Jedi Order.
Many missions and trials later Izaak was on the verge of becoming a Knight at twenty. Sarik had been a master for a few years now and they both agreed it was Izaak's turn to go up in rank, but much like for his first chance at becoming a Padawan. The Force judged now was not Izaak's time for knighthood. It was the last mission before his promotion, they were sent to gather intel on a rumored Sith Cell. It was just supposed to be gathering information, they were not to engage the Sith. Things didn't stay that way though, they had reached the location and were just about to begin observing when something in the backs of the minds told them danger was ahead. Izaak could feel it in the Force, Sarik felt it as well, but they couldn't just abandon this mission. It was key to a victory for the Jedi, despite the growing dread the two men continued on their mission.

The source of the dread soon showed itself. From the shadows of Sith Outpost several men appeared with red sabers glowing evilly in the gloom of the backwater planet. Like his father Izaak found himself in the middle of a Sith ambush, remembering his training and accessing his well of Force Powers, the Padawan joined Master Sarik both utilizing mostly the defense and deflections of Forms III and V they held off the ambush longer than anyone expected. As they continued to defend against and deflect the attacks the Jedi began to wear on the rage and impatience of the Sith, letting it dictate their actions. Hasty attacks, failed feints, it was looking good for the two Sentinels. Unfortunately a snake that has haunted Izaak for many years reared it's head...arrogance. He was becoming cocky, daring to break from the circle of protection and taunt the Sith into further outrage. Sarik had berated him many times for this behavior and while it sunk in the young Miraluka wasn't perfect. This time it would bite him squarely on the behind, seeing the boy's own recklessness an older Sith timed his movement and attack and got past the two men's circle of protection.
He would've killed Izaak on the spot had Sarik not seen this coming and stepped between the boy and the Sith's saber. Reacting before the dark warrior could Sarik drove his own weapon into the Sith's heart killing him instantly. In shock Izaak forgot himself and almost died a second time this instance though the Force saved him. It warned him quick enough so he could counter the attack and slashed the Sith's midsection killing him.

Seeing their own chances to kill these bothersome Jedi the other Sith attacked. Not feeling this would end well for either of them, Sarik used the last of his strength to throw Izaak out of the way and pulled the Plasma Grenade from his vest and detonated it. He and the Sith were turned to ash in a brilliant white light and an ear-splitting explosion. Izaak's ears rang for days after it, he remembered his training though. After he was hurled from the epicenter of the explosion he jumped to his feet and ran for the nearest cover. The Force Sight led him to an old Maintenance Shed on the other side of the compound.
And there he stayed for days he didn't even bother to count the passage of. He had spat in the face of one of the Order's most emphasized Doctrines, Jedi are required to learn that, although they were able to use the Force, they were no better than those who could not. Jedi were taught that they were only Jedi because someone had taken the trouble to teach them, not because they were superior to others, and that a Jedi Master was only a Jedi Master because he had disregarded his own sense of self-importance and embraced the will of the Force. He failed that and it cost him his friend and teacher, if he made it out of this he would always be fighting his greatest enemy...himself. He promised this on Master Sarik's memory, recovering from his near-death experience in meditation, Izaak began constructing a new lightsaber.

The one he had been using was of basic design and while he had gotten used to it he never felt like it was the best he could do. The way of making a lightsaber wasn't to be taught it was to be felt and Izaak was too busy to actually feel the saber. At the construction of his first lightsaber he needed a tool and that was it. Now he needed a real weapon to help him get through this last Trial. Taking the blue crystal from his present lightsaber he cannibalized what parts he felt could be used and took the rest from the shed he was sheltering in. This time of meditation passed undisturbed by the outside world, it seemed the Force was watching over him and keeping danger away until the Miraluka was creating his new weapon. When the young man came out of his trance he was hungry, thirsty, and sore all over, but before him was an elegantly curved lightsaber hilt. It fit perfectly in his hand, and it felt like an extension of his own being.
He immediately wanted to go out and use this new weapon to avenge his Master, but the harsh lessons the defeat and death taught stayed his hand. He needed to eat, find a drink, get off this planet, and try to complete his mission. Remembering the evasive maneuvers and techniques Master Sarik taught him as part of Sentinel Training. He covered himself with soot and snuck from the Shed he had been sheltering in, he then disappeared into the shadows around the base. From what info he and Sarik had before coming to this planet, the outpost had a few outbuildings used mostly for storage. Seeking them out, he satiated his hunger and thirst at the first building and moved towards the main base to hopefully find a ship and some intel. Keeping his profile low and his senses stretched out as far as they could go, he moved like a ghost through the gloom of the corridors not wishing to run into more Sith.

Izaak soon found himself right where he wanted to be, in the Communications Center of the outpost. It was empty which only partially put the young Jedi at ease, The Force was obviously still with him and he had no intention of squandering the chance. Making his way to the console, he accessed it and sent a coded message to the Jedi on Tantoonie. He sent what info was in the immediate area to them and his plans to take a ship and leave. He didn't expect a response so he destroyed the entire center and ran for the hanger.
The Force's grace held out right until he was boarding the ship, the base wasn't as empty as he had hoped. Some Droids were there and they had tried to stop Izaak's escape, but some Emerald Lightning sent them into heavy boxes and fixed that.
Not waiting to see if anything else was coming his way, Izaak hijacked an old Star Cruiser, and after racking his brain he got the thing on Auto-Pilot and set it for Tantoonie. 
He arrived on the planet a Hero and was given the rank of Knight shortly thereafter. The information he had sent over helped the Jedi wipe out that cell and two others.
The newly titled Knight was determined to not rest on his laurels once, he rested up and outfitted himself for whatever could come his way and was back into the thick of things doing his job as a Sentinel a few weeks after his return. Even with his gracefully aged mother attempting to talk him out of it and become a full-time teacher, a mother's pleas are not easily ignored even by a Jedi Knight. In the end though he knew deep down in his heart that his skills would be needed elsewhere and managed to talk the woman onto his side despite the dangers it would bring.

For the next twenty-five years Izaak fought the darkness and perfected his Way of the Aegis. He has even taught his fair share of Padawans, his most recent was the Juhani-Cathar, Rhonan Althror. He had discovered the young slave after he had assisted in bringing down a Mandalorian slave camp. The boy showed an exceptional level of Force Power when he crushed the head of a slave-master. Izaak knew that if it could be refined Rhon would be an extremely skilled and formidable Jedi. He pulled the young alien aside and gave him the opportunity to become something great, Rhon accepted and became the Miraluka's Padawan. Quickly the young Cathar proved himself more than capable to learn the way of the Force and with Izaak's steady hand Rhon became a prime example of a young Jedi. It was even proven when the Padawan sacrificed his own hand to defend innocents. Never had Izaak been more proud of a student than he was of Rhonan that day.
It was a foregone conclusion Rhon would be Knighted and even now they are close friends each still learning from the other. In those years he even recruited an old friend, finally managing to talk Seris into using her great skill for the good of the Order and be an Archivist and Scholar. Right up to the present day he has continued to help rebuild the Jedi Order's image around the Galaxy. Now for five years he has been one of the few Knights promoted to Master in the New Jedi Order. Still visiting his home world frequently, Izaak uses whatever money he has to keep his mother comfortable and forever finds himself in awe at how well she ages. Even these many years later nothing of her sharp faculties have lessened, when he finds himself lost or doubting his actions, just hearing the woman's infinite wisdom and feeling her comforting hand brings him back to himself and he's ready to face any challenge.

RP Sample

The day was fair and the Force was smiling down upon the Jedi stationed on Yavin Praxeum. These types of days were a rare treat in this age of uncertainty, morale was high as the young Jedi in training were gathered for their lessons of the day. On top of this fine day the Academy was also honored to have a squad of Antarian Rangers joining them for the day. The skilled marksmen would be giving the students some lessons on Blasters later. Master Izaak Orn had just returned from a mission hunting down some Dark Jedi. He had just barely stepped from the cruiser when Grand Master Luke came to him with a request to demonstrate his skill with Form III. It was the third day of lightsaber training and they would be getting lessons on that Form today. Being the resident Master of it Izaak was expected to have a hand in it. Grand Master Luke Skywalker was going to introduce him he would wait in the Temple until he was signaled to exit.

The Students and Teachers moved to the courtyard followed by the ten Rangers and the Grand Master. They gathered around the center patch of ground, the young ones knelt on the grass as the Teachers and Rangers stood in the back. Walking to the center of the grass Grand Master Skywalker smiled to the gathered group and motioned for the students to stand.
"Before we begin today I would like to hear the Jedi code from each student."

Standing with their backs straight and their voices strong, the young ones recited it perfectly.
“Jedi are the guardians of peace in the galaxy.
Jedi use their powers to defend and to protect.
Jedi respect all life, in any form.
Jedi serve others rather than ruling over them, for the good of the galaxy.
Jedi seek to improve themselves through knowledge and training.” 

Another smile and he motioned for them all to kneel again.
"Very good, now today you are going to learn about the third classic Lightsaber Form, Soresu also known as the Way of the Mynock or The Resilience Form. This form is all about defense and wearing your opponent down then capitalizing on either his annoyance or fatigue and bringing him down. Now like every Form it has it's positives and it's negatives, it can make you a impenetrable wall of defense and save you from suffering a grave injury, but it also requires a great amount of endurance to not wear yourself out doing it and it doesn't teach any directly offensive maneuvers so you are surviving the confrontation rather than ending it." He watched the Knights behind the kids nod slowly, the young ones mimicked their Elders.

"But that will be for later, for now I have a special treat for you all. Master Izaak Orn has just returned from a mission and has agreed to demonstrate his mastery of the Form and maybe even show us his personal combat style, the Way of the Aegis."  He heard murmurs from both the kids and adults, there are so few Masters in the Order and seeing one demonstrate his renowned skill with the lightsaber was always something to see.
"Let us welcome him back to the Praxeum and allow him to show us his skill." With that the Grand Master stepped aside and from the Temple came Izaak.
He was dressed in his slightly cleaned up Wanderer Armor, the red bandanna tied around his eye sockets, and his deep brown robes fluttering slightly behind him.

Walking his way into the circle he pulled his robes off and folded them neatly placing them outside the circle of grass before beginning to speak.
"Hello one and all, as the Grand Master has said, I am Master Izaak Orn. While he has given a good run-down of Form Three. I will build some personal experience on it before I do this demonstration. The Resilience Form is not for the faint of heart nor is it for those who are not fond of long combat. Using this Form alone will not lead to a quick victory, but it can save you from a quick death. It is the purest representation of the Jedi's Non-Aggressive Values, remember this, aggression and domination is a quick road to the Dark Side."
He let these words sink in as he studied the auras of the gathered people. His black and white views were almost as well known as his saber skill, while they may not admit to it, the Jedi before him could lie, but auras never did. Each had a hint of darkness on the fringes of the clouds,  granted this was to be expected with the new Order's emphasis on balancing both sides rather than eliminating the Dark Side from their minds and souls. Izaak was of an older mindset, but getting bothered by it was another path into the darkness. He just hoped he wouldn't have to kill some of these bright young faces in the days to come.

Picking up his speech again he began pacing slightly focusing his mind.
"This Form was born many centuries ago from the need to defend against the quickly growing popularity of blasters and other such ranged weapons. It was created to counter these weapons and deflect the shots away from the Jedi it was later added upon with Forms Four and Five to attack as well as defend, but Soresu is all about defending and countering. As useful as any form of attacking if you know what to do. Now if our esteemed comrades of the Antarian Rangers would join me on the grass here we can begin the demonstration. Be sure to click the safeties off your sidearms." There was some murmuring amongst the soldiers but the Ranger Captain quieted them with a wave of his hand. He was a grizzled man, older than Izaak by a small number of years, but despite his age he was as strong and hearty was he was at twenty, this was reflected well in how he spoke and how he carried himself.

His voice was a deep bass with a slightly dry sound to it.
"Are you quite sure Master Orn? I know you're a Master of Defense, but mistakes can still happen don't you think?" The other Ranger gave grunts of agreement.

Izaak simple nodded drawing his curved-hilt lightsaber.
"Yes, but the only way to truly demonstrate the merits of the Soresu Form is to put them to a test against the weapons it was created to counter. Besides I have nothing but faith in the skill of you and your Rangers Captain. Now if you would please form a complete circle around me." Kneeling down he drew a three foot wide circle in the center of the grass and activated his weapon then went through some quick stretches and exercises. With a nod from Grand Master Skywalker the soldiers drew their blasters and formed the circle.

Once his stretches were complete Master Orn spoke again.
"Now I ask you all to fire at me with your sidearms. I will deflect each of your blasts and send them harmlessly off into the sky. Fire at will whenever you are ready, and keep firing until you have each fired ten shots." The Master took a standard Soresu Opening Stance, he held the blade back in a one-handed grip, angled forwards with his left arm held parallel, his off-hand held up in a challenge. His dominant foot was positioned back while his other leg was extended forwards and to the side in a brace-position.

There was hesitation on the part of the Rangers, but with another nod from Luke they began. The first shot was fired by the Captain and like he was smacking a fly Izaak spun around and deflected the shot off over the veteran's head. There was shock on the faces of the Rangers now along with many of the students. Master Orn was oblivious to these though, as was the way of the Form after he deflected the first shot he never stopped moving twisting his body in every direction spinning the lightsaber with his body, deflecting bolts that weren't even being fired.
The shock vanished quickly and with a combination of a desire to prove him wrong and a desire to see just how much this Jedi could indeed deflect, the Rangers fired.
The air was alive with the crackle of blaster bolts and electric buzz of the lightsaber deflecting the rounds. The whole display only lasted a minute or so before each ranger had reached their ten round cap. There was silence in the courtyard as Izaak stopped his movements and powered down his lightsaber. He was uninjured and the ground inside the circle was trampled and flattened but not a step was outside the ring.

Holstering his saber the Master spoke.
"Thank you my comrades, I knew I was right in trusting your skills. Let's have a round of applause for our friends here." He gave a rare smile and began clapping for the Rangers, the others joined in and the soldiers let smiles cross their rough features and gave short bows in thanks.

The applause continued until Grand Master Skywalker walked to Izaak's side and patted him firmly on the back.
"And let's have some applause to Master Orn, maybe enough clapping will convince him to show us the secrets of his Combat Style?" Luke asked nudging the Miraluka lightly.

Izaak gave a slight shake of his head to Luke.
"You know I'm not one to show-off Grand Master, besides if I show them now what would they have to look forward to after they completed their Training? Once they complete it then I and the other Jedi skilled in the forms will show them our personal styles." Izaak stepped from his circle and shook the hands of the Rangers firmly.

Luke nodded knowing not to press the issue.
"I will hold you to that my friend, now will you honor us with sitting in on today's class?"

Izaak nodded to the Grand Master.
"It would be an honor Grand Master Skywalker." The two men shook hands and Master Orn took his place with the other Teachers, eager to see how much these young ones could do.

Headmaster Romax

Name: Romax

Age: 7000

Gender: Male

Class/Grade Taught: Headmaster of St. Lorelai's

Race: Earth Dragon

Racial Abilities (limit of 5): Extremely tough and strong, Dragon flight, control over Earth, enhanced senses.

Additional Abilities/skills (limit of 4): Expert in magic, expert in  hand-to-hand combat, expert in armed combat, and a smart man.


Appearance(Pic or Description):

Human form: Short brown hair, stone gray eyes in all his forms, and tanned chiseled skin. He is 7'8 and weighs 450 lbs. Romax is a massive character by all definitions of the word. Usually dressed in a gray suit, white shirt, and good boots. He fills any room he walks into  with his mere power of personality his massive size just ensuing his presence is known.

Half Form: In this form he can't fit into most room he's 20 feet tall, weighs a whopping 5,000 pounds. His wingspan is 50 feet long and that much wide. His tail is 30 feet long. His skin takes on a rocky appearance and one gray horn whips back over his head. Rarely uses this form unless he's demonstrating some skill or the more powerful needs someone they can't hurt.

Dragon Form: In this form he is too big to fit into any building. 500 feet tall and 900 feet long plus his tail, his weight is immeasurable on most scales but it has been figured he weighs nearly as much as two full size tanker ships. His wings flare out to 1,000 feet long and 1,500 wide. His head is shaped like a block of stone and his teeth are solid spikes. His horn is 50 feet long. He looks to be made entirely out of rock and he even creaks when he walks. Never uses this form unless the school is in real danger.

History: Born under the Rocky Mountains a long time ago Romax was raised under the guides of the Dragon Council. Dragons never took part in the monster/human war, they were beings of protection and defenders of the world. This didn't seem to register with humans though, because Dragons were hunted down like the rest of the Monsters. Some of the weaker Species fought back and made the humans suffer but the Base Elementals like Romax and his family avoided it as best as they could. They could decimate whole legions of humans if needed and it just wouldn't be fair.

While they didn't fight in the war they helped the humans and monsters come to peace terms. And ever since Romax has been the Senior Master of St. Lorelei's. Teaching classes when asked and dealing with troublemakers when they popped up. All and all he likes his job and enjoys showing young monsters the proper way to conduct themselves.

Personality: Romax is a big teddy bear of a man most of the time. He laughs, he jokes, he keeps the school moral up with his humorous announcements. He's usually a buddy to the students much to Headmistress Auro's mild annoyance. But when it comes to doing his job he puts his game face on and makes troublemakers quake both figuratively and literally in some cases. 

Other: Romax rides a big gunmetal gray motorcycle

Chase "Mr. Gee" Gibbs

Name: Chase Gibbs
Stage Name: Mr. Gee
Age:45
Gender: Male

Race: Human
Normal looks(pic or description):

Chase

Full Moon looks(pic or description):

Mr. Gee

Act: Ringmaster
Racial Powers and Skills: Public speaking, leading, and humor.
Full Moon powers: When the full moon is out Chase's voice becomes deeper and he can control sound and even speak into the minds of members of the audience he feels aren't paying attention.

Bio: Chase inherited the Full Moon Circus from his father including all the hate and damnation to hell letters. Within the first week he couldn't even imagine how his father endured it all for so long. He wanted to hunt down these people and show them why Circus folk always have each other's backs but he knew he second he did it would prove all the haters right and that would spell the end of his Family's Legacy. Keeping his head high he throws the letters into the furnace as soon as he gets them before moving on to start the show.

Personality: During the rest of the month he's morbidly quiet and very reserved. Rarely will he raise his voice or act rashly. But when the moon is full and high in the sky his personality is flipped. He's loud, energetic, humorous, and  absolutely loves talking.

Other: He always has that cane in his Full Moon appearance it's just not lit up until the Full Moon.

Urthlite "Urth" Bones

Name:Urthlite Bones
Sex:Male
Age: 30

Appearance:

Urthlite

When relaxing he wears heavy insulated leather doublet and black leather boots. He has salt-and pepper colored hair and a matching full beard.

Equipment: Being one that usually lives in the wild even when the Guild isn't out hunting. He carries nearly all his possessions in a large haversack.
Weapons: One steel claymore, one fighting knife, four throwing daggers, two heavy leather gloves coated with spikes and metal plates, and a crossbow with 90 bolts.

Armor: As shown above complete with metal shin boots and heavy leather pants.

Gear: His numerous number of pouches is where he holds the treasures he finds out in the wild wastes of the world. Survival equipment for making fire, hunting, fishing, and shelter building.
Other: A 30lb housecat he's trained to kill.

Personality: An isolationist and loner, Urth likes being on his own but his long times on his own has left him mildly crazy and totally unhinged. His mental state usually swings from lucid and kind to wild and malicious. Whenever the guild is going some place more dangerous than usual Urth is always called on and shows no fear doing the stuff the sane person would never do. Loves animals and kids but always trusts his instincts when dealing with adults or adolescence he doesn't know.   

Background: Born and raised in the wastes around Stormántia to primarily Bounty Hunting part time treasure hunters parents Urth was always one to explore his limitations and never back down from a challenge. He always tagged along with his folks when they went out hunting working as look-out and gopher when he was young but each year they gave him a little more responsibility until he was full partner in their endeavors at 16.
His parents died happy quiet deaths in their sleep but their spirit of adventure lived on in their son and he continued scavenging old ruins and selling what he didn't like. This was how he came across the Guild and while he rarely bothers staying in the city he keeps his camp nearby in the outskirts for when they venture out.

IN USE

Wallace

Name: Wallace
Age: 38
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description):

Wallace

Wallace is a very large man being 6'8 and weighing a whopping 300lbs of heavy muscle this also being reflected in his wider than normal head and jaw. Like some other reptilian experiments, Wallace's upper body and arms are scaled and gives the appearance of being armored owing to his Armored Skin Ability, his legs are also covered in armored scales but they aren't quite as strong as the ones on his upper body.

His scales are mix of burnish gold and brown making him look somewhat metallic his eyes are a similar burned gold color. His hair and beard are longer than most soldiers, but still within military regs. The above image is what he looked like after a particularly long stint out patrolling the dimensions.

Race: Genetically modified human
Job: Dimensional Shield, Black Knight Rank.

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Tremendous Bite Force: While somewhat restricted by the shape of his mouth and head, Wallace's bite force is able to easily snap bones and rend weak metal with a bit of twisting.

Armored Skin: As much a physical advantage as a mental one. Wallace takes what comes his way and uses it to fuel his hate fire and desire to fight. His scales, while not as powerful without his Hardening ability backing them can still deflect most bladed or blunt weapons and absorb damage from punches and kicks well.

Powerful: In part due to his genetics, but Wallace also dedicates much of his time lifting weights and physical training. He is stronger than your average solider, but not to an unattainable level. It also helps him control his vengeful tendencies.

Big Lungs: Another gift from his crocodillin forefather, Wallace can hold his breath for up to an hour even when fighting some undersea monstrosity. This also lets him get away with succumbing to any kind of toxins in the air.


Faction Abilities: Dimension Shield, each power's range and effectivness is based on rank and experince. Being a Black Knight Wallace's abilites and limits are as followed.

Dimension Space: Basic hammer space, able to carry his own weight plus 30% giving him a Dimension Space capacity of 390lbs.

Dimensional Call: Can summon objects or beings bound to the caster too large to reside inside dimensional space. Being a Knight, Wallace can have six summons at his beck and call, but like all others he cannot have more than two Summons out at any given time and depending on the size of the Summon not even that. And with enough force even his biggest summon, an Elder Sorrow can be disrupted and destroyed.

Dimensional Shell: A shield of dimensional energy that allows physical objects to pass or warp around the user. Cannot be used in conjecture with physical weapons. Wallace's shield can stay active for a total of half a minute or if he is hit with a non-physical attack equal to his own punching force. Though with enough concentration and training his hopes to double that amount before he goes up in rank.

Dimensional Vortex: Can overlap nearby dimensions to affect gravity in small areas at a set distance from themselves. Like this other Faction abilties, his Vortex power is limited by his rank. As a Knight he can extend the vortex to double his own body length and maintain it for three minutes before he must collapse it which will destory whatever is inside that vortex if he cannot recall the vortex fast enough.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):


Many lifetimes at war: Having spent what equates to many lifetimes fighting in wars across the omniverse. Wallace has a large plethora of skills at fighting. Marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat particularly Pankration and Breaker Training, melee fighting, the driving and piloting of vehicles of Land, Sea, Air, and Space. And while not his best he has skills with various kinds of technology and weapons across the many spans of history. It has also given him a love for working out and weight-lifting constantly on the hunt to improve his physical body and mental fortitude so he can face down every challenge and death defying stunt he needs to.

Tactical Brute: No one who spends so much time fighting can have survived so long without being tactical. While still the rush in and break stuff up type. Wallace has learned enough about tactics to fill many books, making him very adaptable so no matter the situation he was been dropped into he can figure his way out of it.

Hardening - Wallace can harden parts of his body to supplement his natural armor. The hardening is tough enough to protect from firearms and most physical attacks the multiverse can throw at him. The hardening doesn't affect mobility almost at all but does require focus to fire up and maintain. It was an ability taught to him during his first year with the Dimensional Shields. An honest to Lady Death Psionic being of pure energy from a race known only as the Sevenfall taught it to him.

Meat Lover's Chef: An unfortunate side effect of his genetic coding. Wallace can only eat meat and he must eat a lot of it. Anything else will make him sick and this extends to how he interacts with the world around him and the people in it. They are either food, an enemy, or a fuck toy. While he would never eat anyone he views the world in colors of Predator and Prey. As such he has learned exactly how many ways there is to cook meat of all types even those of aliens and other races he has encountered.

Polygot: A skill every Shield needs before they can even be sent on their first mission, you never know where you'll be sent or who you'll be sent with. So it pays to know as many languages and customs as possible, while Wallace isn't a genius he does know most of the languages that are spoken in the S system of the E sector of the I dimension (i.e. our world, solar system, and universe). For all others the Dimensional Shields carry Omni-speakers that can translate other unknown languages to one the wields knows.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons): While skilled in nearly any weapon you put in his hand, the Shields are expected to carry very little with them between dimensions.  Basically yourself and whatever clothes you can find to fit the world you are going into, but they are allowed one weapon that can fit into nearly anytime they may find themselves in and in Wallace's case his constant companion is  Catastrophe, a two-handed Steel bar mace. Simple in it's design and far from the wild and often oversized cartoon character weapons many other Shields carry. But in the hands of a powerhouse like Wallace it's all he ever really needs to carry.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): While his own skin offers plenty of armor on it's own, many of the places he gets sent to use attacks and weapons he was not designed specifically to fight. So like his weapon load out he dons many kinds of armor, from fur and bone to futuristic space alloys and energy fields able to repel laser and plasma bolt fire. 

Equipment: Mission sensitive, but does carry a flask of hard whiskey and a tin of high quality cigars with him at all times.

Augs(Limit of 3): N/A

Personality: Wallace was a born killer, where others in the genetics lab needed lashings and beatings to get ready to fight. Wallace was created using the genes of one of nature's meanest and most aggressive predators, the Saltwater Crocodile. He was eager to fight fresh out of the jar, what he needed training in though was learning who to bite and who not to bite. He learned...like they all learned though this naturally tough skin did mean it took longer. Still once it was learned he never strayed, but a predator's mind never stops hunting and it holds grudges.

He took each and every beating to heart and will remember it when the time comes to teach some things of his own. But in his time fighting whatever monsters he was set against, he has learned to temper himself by simply bottling it all up feeding his Hate Fire until it burns bright enough to make him truly a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Still if someone were to dig deep enough down they would see the beaten and frightened child locked inside the man's body. Though first they would need to dig through the classic Alpha Male who takes advantage of any opportunity presented to him damn the consequences with an appetite for life and intimacy that is quite large.


Likes: Females, whiskey, cigars, fighting, being a Shield, traveling, the smell of cooking meat, and water.

Dislikes: Weakness, touchy-feely fools, being forced into lose-lose situations, idiotic governments, illogical and/or stupid people.

Background: Created in the hellscape that was the Ragnarok Genetic Experimentation Facility in Scarlands to the latest batch of genetic super soldiers. The Slayerkin as they are collectively called were created by the foolhardy government to fight in a war with some otherworldly monsters called the Sorrows that has been going on for nearly a century. This war has ravaged the Scar homeworld of the K Sector in D Dimension down to near global extinction levels. At least according to the Dimensional Shield's records, but Wallace never knew it's name nor it place in the multiverse until he joined the Shields. Wallace cares not for weakness nor does he care to think on his time in the K Sector. He wasn't even sure why the Shields cared so much to try and save the damn place.

It was a blur while it was happening and will remain as such until he decides to die. His batch were born for Aquatic Warfare and placed in the Scar City Navy, which he served faithfully in for sixteen years. And while the Sorrows did sometimes show up in the big waters and sewers. Him and his batch were more glorified pest controllers in the Saltie's opinion, spending more time rooting out rats on their way to the monster than fighting the damned thing itself. They were created from Alligators, Monitor Lizards, Sharks, Barracudas, and of course Crocodiles. Given underwater adaptation and the raw tenacity to dare the depths and whatever might meet them there.

While likely not in the blueprints for what went into making him he did find he was good at another type of job... First Strike in the Scout Battalion which he spent a full eighteen years of his life doing bringing him to the ripe old age of thirty-four which for Slayerkin like him was a venerable age. His batch helped them with a Sorrow's Nest once, and he soon found that wandering into almost certain death every day suited him just fine. As soon as he was able he put in to be placed in the S.B. and spend more time on dry land than in the water, his superiors seemed glad to be rid of him actually. His natural armor and the inherent ferocity of his forebear allowing him to stand a chance against these nightmarish freaks quite often. While not their primary jobs in the Scouts, his brothers and he were sent out more often than not on First Strike missions, where the Scouts had found a Sorrow's Nest ripe with eggs and weakened Birthers resting up between laying sessions. Their job was simple...destroy the entire next generation of Sorrows and Birthers to try and cull the Sorrows's numbers. Wallace thinks he's spent more time outside Scar City than in it with the Scouts, but he never much cared to count. He had grown quite close to his batch and would've stayed in with them had they all not been wiped out in a botched Strike.

Intel had said it was just a small nest with one or two elderly Birthers guarding it, but someone screwed the pine pony on that one. He and his comrades or the "Mariners" as they liked to call themselves were dropped right smack in the middle of the main nest of the Sorrows King and Queen, and they were terribly ill-equipped to fight them. Wallace and his brothers, Angus the Great-White Shark, William the Komodo Dragon, Robert the Tiger Shark, Shamus the Barracuda, Calhoun the Alligator, and Alistair the Nile Crocodile fought their way through the nest using every ounce of their skills and training to earn even an inch towards the exit. In the end it was only Wallace who walk out of those tunnels and just in time for the fluffy fool that was the general of the Scarland military to drop a nuke directly on top of it winning the war at long last. And all it took was planting a tracking device in a pack among the Mariners and following it, Wallace died right there already bleeding out paying little mind to the Sorrows that came stampeding out of the fiery death the military had condemned them to. He was ready to join his brothers at Fiddler's Green, but the unexpected happened. A hand seemed to reach out of a rip in the fabric of reality to pull his battered and broken body through, leaving everything he had known behind him to burn in nuclear fire.

Ignosi, the Gatekeeper of Dimensions had pulled him from his own reality and dropped him into the infirmary of an inn called the Star with two enigmatic beings watching over him. An unknown male called Keppe O'Keefe who was the owner and operator of the Star and an ancient Space Dragon named Grand master Galez who was the head of a group known as the Dimensional Shields. Guardians and something like an inter-dimensional police force tasked by the Gatekeeper to maintain the balance in the Omniverse. It was a lot for Wallace to take in so he promptly passed back out hoping it was all just a fever dream he was having before he got to the Green to see his brothers again. But upon his second waking it was all proven to be very real...he was dead and this was his reward for a lifetime of pain and suffering...and afterlife of pain and suffering. But at least he was for all intents and purposes immortal now, being removed from the fabric of time and space does come with it's perks. The Saltie took time to heal up, his wounds so great that it was up in the air if he would survive at all, but immortality took to him and in what would amount to six months he on his feet and being taught all he would need to know about being Dimensional Shield. A further two years followed, his many skills at war allowing him to fast track most of the basic training Squires got. His world was high end Type I Planetary Civilization and had it not been for the war with the Sorrows they would've easily reached the rank of Type II Stellar Civilization in Wallace's lifetime so he didn't even need a lot of training in the more technological disciplines and weapons training.

What he did struggle with was the emotional and intellectual parts of his training. He was bred and created solely for war and fighting, his literacy was extremely weak as well as cultural and language skills. He had to cram over twelve years of education into his two year training period, he managed to do it. But he hopes to never have to read that much ever again. Once his training was done he was paired with a Mentor and began his life as Shield, being sent to worlds and dimensions that just boggled the mind. Told to blend in and try to subtly steers things away from turning out like Scar and the K Sector. They weren't always successful, but Wallace can brag about a few Mass-Extinction Events he's averted. And now after four years he has earned the rank of Black Knight fighting back chaos on his own or with his own plucky Squire at his back.

Other: Though Wallace does have a particular taste for humanoid females from naturally "Prey-like" species. Horsesgirls, Rabbitsgirls, Cowgirls etc. He's a natural Dom when given the chance. This also extends to any females he deems "fluffy."

IN USE

Sergeant Dirk Racer

Name: Dirk Racer
Age: 33
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description):

Dirk

Built like a Forest Golem even before he became the Warden of Coille and was augmented into pretty much becoming one. 6'6 and weighing a powerful 275 pounds of war tested muscle. Dirty auburn colored hair and goatee compliment his lightly tanned skin and bright green eyes though since undergoing the Binding Ritual to Coille his skin has become much more wood like and rough though his scars still show through like scars on a tree's trunk.

His body is lined with scars, but his arms and knuckles sport the bulk of them. Years of fighting for his life on the streets where he grew up an orphan. While only dressed like the above when fighting for his mistress he usually prefers wearing comfortable clothes likes jeans and t-shirts.

Race: Augmented Human
Job: Warden of the Forest Goddess Coille

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Oak Skin: Despite the name his skin atually becomes more like stone than wood. Able to easily deflect attacks from bladed weapons, blunt weapons, and even some magic spells and bullets. It does make his movements stiffer though limiting his agility, luckily he can lessen it's effects to some degree when not fighting.

Many Rings: While still new to his role as a Warden to a Diety she has told him he'll likly live as long if not longer than five thousand years should he not be killed by some external force though it does mean it takes him longer to heal from wounds even minor ones, while not enough to inhibit his duties it does make him hard to look at sometimes. This also gives him a limited ability to gain nourishment and power from sunlight this can speed up his healing if he stays long enough in direct sunlight.

Wisdom of the Forest: While not quite at the level of Coille, Dirk has the ability to talk with and listen to the trees. He also has an innate knowledge of Botany and Woodcraft. Able to forage for both food and medicine in any biom that can be called a "Forest".

Deep Roots: This ability gives him tremendous strength throughout his entire body, easily able to support and move nearly a ton in weight, but it also makes it impossible to knock him over.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Extensive military training: An all around useful skill set, Dirk joined the Army at seventeen and earned his Ranger Tab in his mid twenties. This alone gives him a considerable range of abilities from weapons, to technlogy, to explosives, to driving vehicles, to hand-to-hand combat. Generally if there is an obstacle put before him Dirk has all the skills and knowledge to either overcome it...or blast a hole through it.

Instincts: While honed during his time in the military, Dirk's instincts were created early in his life needing to rely on them to live on the crime riddled streets of Hestrin. He can see trouble coming a mile off and and usually get out of the way before it catches him.

Mechanic: One of his only non military skills, Dirk has a love and passion for working on engines and other machines. While not something he would considers for a day job he could make a living on it if he tried.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

The Elder Blades: The pair of swords in the image. Arming swords created by his Goddess's personal weaponsmith, enchanted to be extremely durable and has a passive posisoning effect that acts like fire enchantment when they cut into his foes.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor):

Elder Mail: The armor in his image also made by Collie's weaponsmith. Like this blades they are enchanted to be extremely durable and offers it's own protections against lightning abilities and fire attacks.

Equipment: Normally doesn't need to carry anything. But he does carry some herbal tonics created by Collie to act as healing potions.

Personality: Fatalist but not hopeless, tired but not exhausted. He's a man looking for something or someone to keep living for rather than simply waiting for death to finally catch up to him.

Likes: Women, living a peaceful life, the wilderness, swords, good strong bourban, a nice hefty plate of meat and potatoes.

Dislikes: War, fighting for his peace and survival, guns, coffee, too many vegetables, the city of Gonmish and the many crime families that run it.

Background: Dirk Racer wasn't born an orphan, he does have vague memories of parents loving and taking care of him for at least five years. Then one day...they just weren't, he was staring up at the large gothic gates of the Gonmish Orphanage. The next ten years of his life at the orphange were a continuous blurr, parentless kids were one of two things in ths big city. Thugs or Toys, you did damage or you got damaged.

Dirk chose the former, he was always the big kid in the yard and just like a small version of prison new meat always looks for the biggest guy to pick a fight with. He never lose those fights, in fact his prowess in fighting is what brought him to the attention of a minor god  named Eubouleus, he was apparently the God of Secrets, but has finally decided to spill the secrets he's been holding onto all these years. He was looking to make his name in the criminal underbelly of Gonmish. Which in and of itself was tough, but without some leg breakers and minions would be impossible. Dirk would be his leg breaker and even at fifeteen he was a load of muscle, he just needed the cold disconnect of a proper killer. Which he learned fairly quickly within his first few months he had destroyed what little part of his soul was left after fighting his whole life through. He was only with Eubouleus for about three years before taking his first chance out of the that life he joined the military, going away intent on never coming back. And he didn't for the rest of his living days, but if there is one lesson Gonmish teaches all residents...you can never run away from it forever, and in Dirk's case not even death can keep you safe.

He had almost died so many times in his life, but could never get that big K.O. As such he was convinced he was cursed with immortlity or something, A residual "gift" from his time as Eubouleus's minon he assumed. It's what let him survive countless suicide mission overseas as a member of the Army Rangers, inflitrating enemy bases to rescue high value targets. Assasinate an enemy general without making a single sound, burn down some poor bastard's compound so no one could see what his squad did there. Cloak and dagger to the extreme, but on his last tour it seemed his luck was finally runing out, his squad was ambushed on a routine patrol with half of them being wiped out in an I.E.D explosion. Just Dirk and his two squadmates Reynolds and Jackson, and the three of them managed to hold out for two hours of the onslaught before the last Ambusher was killed. His team was in a bad way themsevles though, Reynolds bled out shortly before the lastround was shot and Jackson followed after it was all over. Dirk was the last man standing once again...well he was sitting now and quickly bleeding out himself. He had lost count of how many times he took a round in this last firefight, but he knew one of them had nicked his lungs and he was quickly drowningin his own blood. It seems he was finally going to be allowed a well-deserved rest from his lifelong war, writing a small will and testiment on some torn notepad paper signing off with his own epitath. "And here lies Sergeant Dirk Racer, the last man stading no more." Dropping the bloody pen he closed his eyes welcoming death just as the sounds of his allies hummvees came roaring up the road towards them.

The next time he opened his eyes, the sight that greetd him was not the one he expected. Granted he was glad it wasn't the lake of fire and pain he might belong in, but it also wasn't the fluffy clouds and golden kingdom he might've earned from his hard life. No it was a quiet room in some country cottage sitting in the middle of a massive forest. His wounds were cleaned perfectly, and he was dressed in some kind of green robes and sandels. Confused by alive, he staggered off the bed and tried to figure out where he was, but no sooner had his feet hit the floor than the door to the room burst open admitting a tall and queenly woman dressed in what looked like robes made of trees and twigs. He didn't know it then, but this was his savior Collie Goddess of the Forest and he had just been snatched from the jaws of death to be her personal gladiator in some godly bloodsports...seriously Dirk cannot catch a break.

Other: Dirk has had a few girlfriends in his time, never been engaged or married though. His life has often been to chaotic to settle down, but soon he hopes to find peace and start some kind of life with someone he loves.

The Recasts Group 3

Riggs "Grey"  Elmherst of Greyhold

Name: Riggs Elmsherst of Greyhold or just Grey
Age: 34
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Grey

Despite the grey on his head and beard Riggs is a man well seasoned by battle and life on the road. Only 5'8, but weighing a bulky 195 pounds of stout muscle. His skin despite being on the road for many months has retained it's paleness from his youth in the mountains of Eisignol. His eyes are cheerful most of the time and a warm brown

Race: Human
Job: Sellsword

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4) N/A

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Blunt Weapon: While many in his field prefer the flash and slash of swords or the range and power of bows Grey has always found the feel of crushing his foes under the heft of a war-hammer or the solid crack of a mace one his favorite in the whole world. And within that he prefers single-handed weapons.

Power: Born from his preferred weapons Grey is an extremely strong man despite not being the tallest one around.

Adaptable: You don't live long in his business if you can't think on your feet and weasel out a few extra seconds of luck before winning the day. Grey has turned this into an art form.

Explorer: Like being adaptable, you don't get a good pay day unless you know your way around the world. Grey has been to all points on the compass even hopping a boat of the many Island nations around Eisignol and Biesignol.

Gambler: Every man needs his vice to be a balanced human. For Grey it's gambling, be it with money, horses, or sometimes his life the sellsword gets quite the rush from this vice and when jobs are dry he can pay his rent with it.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Mace: The weapon in the picture. Made of fine steel and hard oak it's a simple Pilgrim's weapon he was told once, but it's effectiveness lies in it's simplicity in his eyes.

Dirk: For times he needs speed and stealth on his side he has a keen double-edged dirk that's about a foot long made of fine steel like his mace.

Utility knife: A last resort weapon, but mostly used as just a tool. While made of steel it's a more utilitarian quality and single-edged.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): Treated and study leather body armor and equally sturdy gauntlets are all he has really ever needed.

Equipment: Fire making tools, a waterproof tent, camp supplies, whetstone, spare clothes, dried food, a heavy cloak, waterskin, and a small flute he plays when he has downtime.

Personality: Grey is a gruff and self-sufficient man. Preferring his own company or the company of Irana to most other things. But while many think him mean or distances this isn't true. He just doesn't like dealing with a lot of new people and in his eyes Irana is the only other person he needs and trusts enough to watch his back out in the wilds. To her he is a kind and considerate man often fussing over her, much to the woman's annoyance. But to others he is usually cordial and to the point.

Likes: Traveling, nature, money, Irana, working, being alone.

Dislikes: Being stuck in one place, losing a job, liars.

Background

Born in the backroom of his ancestral family manor Riggs Elmherst of Greyhold was born a gentleman without a penny to his name. His family has been warriors for centuries and there were even some old records that claimed them to be descended from an long Iaegr line from the ancient fort of Fellstar starting with a Wardrun by the name of Kenway the Wild-Fire and a woman named Aria Hardig.

His father often joked those records could put one of them on the Throne of the Human Dominion someday. But such grandeur was never appealing to Rigg's family, they earned their coin honestly. But luck has a habit of turning her back on you at the most inopportune time. A series of bad business deals and leans harvest years had reduced the men and women of Greyhold to paupers. And soon after Rigg's first birthday they were nomads, but when many  would cringe and gnash their teeth the Elmhersts were a warrior's stock on the road was where many of them earned their fortune.

So moving from campsite to campsite Riggs was raised around many different races learning many different things. One thing he always taught though was stand on your own two feet, trust your own courage and strength before others. With this manta always playing through his mind he grew strong and grew smart. Around his thirteenth birthday he took his first job as a sellsword and the travelbug hit him hard and never backed down.

While his family still lives and travels the same roads as him Grey has been living on his own name since he was seventeen. While not world famous like some mercs he's earned his name as a reliable and efficient mace for hire. And while still largely a lone wolf him and Irana have become quite the good team. Even settling down in a little cabin in the Burning Woods in the northwestern part of the Dominion.

Other: While they aren't official he has a female travel companion named Irana he is very close with and even lives with between their contracts.

Jagmar One-Eye

Name: Jagmar One-Eye
Race: Dwarf
Age: 67

Gender(M or F):Male
P.o.B: Aglarond (the Glittering Caves), Endor
Side: Defenders of Endor

Class: Rogue
Specialization: Bounty Hunter

Skills(limit of 4)

Stalwart: Even though he isn't a warrior, Jagmar has had to teach himself to fight and as such he was learned the unflinching will and drive of a warrior.

Tracker: Whether it is hunting down Orcs that have managed to get past the border guards, or a rich merchant whose daughter has run off. Jagmar can track like a hound.

Polearm Expert: While primarily skilled in his halberd, Jagmar can use a pole-axe, pike, lance, or spear just as well.

Animal Friend: A trick he learned from the Rangers of the North, Jagmar has an affinity for animals and has a crow companion named Sorbel he uses to scout for him.

Spells(Mage only, limit of 3): N/A

Appearance(pic or description):

Jagmar One-Eye

As with all Dwarves, Jagmar is a stout, broad shouldered individual. 4'6 and weighing a mighty 210lbs. His hair and beard are a fine golden color and his one good eye is blue and glares out at world with steady defiance.

He is usually dressed as above his mithril breastplate is the only real bit of armor he has. The rest of his outfit is thick cotton and leather, both warm and functional. And when he's not fighting he just removes the breastplate and wears his under heavy coat, gloves, pants, and boots. He only uses the helmet to keep his head safe when mining.

Weapons(limit of 2, pic or description)

Halberd: The weapon is a prime example of Dwarven craftsmanship. Five feet all, the head is high-grade steel and the shaft is made of the strongest ironwood.

Throwing hatchet: A smaller axe, with a single bladed head and a strong leather wrapped handle. He can use it as a tool, a close quarters weapon, or as a throwing weapon.

Armor(limit of 1, pic or description): The finely made mithril breastplate in the image, it is runed and covers his entire torso front and back.

Equipment(pic or description) Fire-making tools, a large water bag, dried meat, his bedroll, weapons maintenance kit, Sorbel the Crow, bounty letters, rope, and a small knife used to eat with.

Runes(limit of 2 all and all)

Defiant to the End: Carved into his breastplate, it allows him to ignore great amounts of pain, but it does not protect him from actual wounds, it just lets him ignore the pain.

Cold as Stone: Carved onto his halberd it allows his hits to strike with extra force and is more likely to knock down and stun enemies.

Personality: Jagmar is a serious and focused man. He loves his solitude and his privacy, he was raised an unwanted guest in his own homeland. An orphan with a long trouble streak in him. He can deal with people for his job, but unless they really earn his curiosity or admiration he likes being by himself.

Background

Jagmar was born in the Glittering Caves behind Helm's Deep, the newest settlement of Dwarves in Endor. They were founded just two-hundred years ago after the War of the Ring by Gimli, son of Glóin. They helped rebuild the damaged fortress and the gates at Minas Tirith, forming alliances and establishing themselves as an important group in the rebirth of Middle Earth.

From then on the Dwarves of the Glittering Cave were expected to live up to that standard as Artisans and Crafters. But Jagmor was of a different mind, he was an orphan among his people. His parents were killed in a cave-in and his ancestral line originally from the Iron Hills was nearly wiped out in the War of the Ring. He had no family name nor a lineage to cash in on, so he was left to follow the only path he could. A rogue and finder of lost things, both were born from his need to find food and shelter for the night.

He did this day-in and day-out for decades. Eventually he became such a nuisance that the current Lord of the Glittering Caves decided to temper the man's fire into working for him. He received training from the Lord's personal Guards and was sent beyond the walls to be one of his Bounty Hunters. It was a life Jagmar loved, being out of those dark and depressing halls and getting to see Endor in all it's glory. Meeting people, hunting down targets, and being away from the Dwarves of Aglarond. He grew in skillset and reputation, he even found himself a nice little cottage outside of Helm's Deep where he could find peace and quiet between bounties. But his peace and solitude was ruined with the appearance of The Wrong. Helm's Deep never fell, but like many times before it became a last stand.

The Dwarves and Rohirrim joined forces again and fought back the first waves, and with aid from Gondor they pushed the bulk of the monsters back from the throats of the Free People. Currently in a stalemate Jagmar now named One-Eye after losing his right eye in a scuffle with one of the few Uruk-hai commanders left in Endor, is splitting his time between bounty work and fighting the Wrong. And he wishes above all else to return to the days when he was only bothered to find some Noble's Wife who was skipping out with the Stable Boy.

Other

Crouched among the bushes besides a large grove a Dwarf stared idly down on a pair of Humans. One, an older blond haired woman in maybe her mid-forties and a younger black-headed man in his early twenties. They were seated on the shore, naked and with their lower halves entwined under the clear blue water.

This was Lady Emilgard and her stable boy Winstar. They were doing their weekly ritual of "fishing" for Lord Emilgard's table. But the wily lord knew better, he's had Scouts tracking them, but none of the could get close enough to actually see it happening. So once he heard of the Dwarf with a knack for hunting people down he sent for Jagmar and now here they were.

Sorbel was perched in a tree overlooking the grove, his job already being done since he was the one who actually found the Lady and the boy's secret meeting place. Now it was just up to Jagmar to bring them both in. But the Lord was a pompous ass, so the Dwarf figured he'd let the couple have one final bit of fun before he ruined it. Besides the nude human body just looked unpleasant... at least most of the ones he seen have been so. It was remarkable how many of his bounties he's caught with their pants down or their skirts up. Mostly Humans, but he's taken in a few Dwarves, but those were all men. Female Dwarves very rarely leave the caves.

In peace, peoples' inner demons always find way to amuse themselves. And this is one he's come across so many times. Rolling to his back Jagmar let the adulterers have their privacy, but he wished he brought some ear plugs. The woman had such a painfully shrill voice it made even Sorbel caw in disdain. Luckily the coupling didn't last long, the boy was young and the woman so very eager. Soon he heard them share a laugh, make a few lewd jokes and climb from the water to dress. Time to go to work, getting up from his back he quickly emerged from the bushes and actually made it down the small slope before either person reacted.

The Stable Boy saw him first and reached for his cudgel putting himself between Lady Emilgard and the Dwarf, but Jagmar quickly pulled his hatchet out and hurled it blunt end first. It connected to Winstar's forehead and dropped him like a stone. The Lady then grabbed her hunting sword, but the Bounty Hunter quickly knocked it down with his halberd staring blankly at the woman.
"Lady Emilgard, I'm Jagmar One-Eye. A Bounty Hunter here to bring you back to yer dear husband's bed."

The fear the noble lady felt quickly fled and was replaced by anger yanking her sword free she shouted at the stout man.
"You ugly little shit! How dare you do that sterile fool's bidding? He cares more about playing general with his shirtless goons than being a good husband and trying to start a family with me! Besides, he's plouged them more than he has me!"

Jagmar rolled his eyes shouldering his weapon.
"Than do like any other scorned woman an' hire someone to kill him. Easterlings are always eager to get the blood of Western Men on their curved swords. Ye can even marry Winstar here afterwards. I don't give a damn, but your husband is paying me good money to bring you both in. Now I can bring you in awake or knock you out like the yon fool there, an' drag you back. Yer choice." The Lady was formally a Shieldmaiden for the Riders of Rohan, and give up wasn't in her skillset.

She shouted in anger and charged Jagmar bringing her sword up in a wide arch. The Dwarf sighed rolling under her swing and tripping her up. She squawked in surprise like a chicken and fell flat onto her face, the long skirts she was wearing tangling up her feet and inhibiting those old warrior reflexes from saving her. The Bounty Hunter got back to his feet and returned to his relaxed pose waiting for the woman to regain her feet. With some spastic flaps of her arms and legs she was back up, face red with anger and embarrassment. She quickly cut the bottom hem of her dress off giving her feet more movement. Jagmar hoped that wouldn't be taken out of his bounty. But the woman charged again this time moving with the renowned skill and speed of the Rohirrim warrior women. Jagmar actually had to engage her in combat, ducking around her swings and countering the backslashes. It was a surprise, but the Dwarf was getting annoyed.

He waited for her next swing, but this time he took it in the pauldron of his armor then rushed forward knocking the woman down before bringing his large fist down and knocking her out with one punch. The stout man sighed and got to his feet, they'd both be knocked out for awhile but he really wasn't looking forward to carrying them both back to Lord Emilgard's estate. He sent a shrill whistle up to Sorbel and motioned for him to go find the patrol of Riders the Lord had provided to watch his back. The crow cawed loudly and flew off towards the North. In the mean time Jagmar tied both the lady and her lover up and gagged them, as he looked down at their prostrate forms he frowned, sometimes his job bothered him. The Lady wanted to be loyal to her husband and give him children, but he spurned her in favor of the company of other men, so she too sought out the company of other men. He knew a few good assassins who could fix that, but he was working for the Lord and when your livelihood depends on being neutral and just getting the money owed you, you can't let pesky things like honor or logic get in the way. He pulled out a long pipe and put some of his homegrown tobacco into the bowl and lit it with a match. He puffed the sweet smoke into his lungs and waited for the Lord's riders to show up.

Whistler Merning

Name: Whistler Merning
Age: 20
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Whistler

Whistler is a man of lean muscle and 5'11 His eyes glow with power and his hair is kept short and is black as night. He carries a utility cleaver, a weapon he's carried with him his whole life it's a fixed blade cleaver with a heavier blade and thick handle used as much for fighting as cooking. And his most prized possession is a Pan Pipe, his magical pipe made of fine cherry wood he carries with him at all times.

He's a thief so armor isn't a big thing, but his coat is of a heavier make and offers protection from blades. Under his coat he is usually wearing a dark colored shirt, urban camo pants, and black boots. Lastly he carries lock picks, a compass, penknife, and a necklace from his mother.

Race: Puppet Master
Specialties: Lock-Picking, Misdirection, and Puppet Control

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 3)
1: Magic blood: Being a type of mage gives Whistler a tougher than average body.
2: Puppet Control: As much his race as his school of discipline, Whistler can use magic amplified by a musical pipe to bring carved wooden puppets and sometimes even dead bodies to life and control them.

Puppet Control: Whistler can use a Gift amplified by a musical pipe to bring carved puppets and sometimes even small dead bodies to life and control them.  Each puppet is made of a different material and serves a different purpose. And due to the state of his Gift They can grow from the size of action figures to over full grown adult size. Each type of puppet requires a different song and each song takes a few minutes to fire off, but once it is done the puppets stay fully grown and work via his will power until he plays the song again. At his current skill level he can only control three puppets at a time and only after he's played their song.

Wood: His second most common and well-made puppets. They start about one tall and grow to about the size of young children around 4 feet tall. He uses them to scout areas or help him steal stuff. They are finely carved with slightly anime character like features. His mother and him had been working them for about a year before she died in the great event. She had done most of work herself, but Whistler helped out and managed to finish them with crude hair features. They are made of solid Oak so can take a small number of conventional hits, but are susceptible to fire.

Rock: His "Bruisers" as he calls them. They start at about a foot and a half tall and can grow to about Whistler's size. He uses them to fight people or break down walls and doors. While they are sculpted they look more like weathered statues a few centuries old. They were his first solo creations at around age thirteen, still lonely in a world that seemed bent on killing him he tried to make them as human looking as he could, but his skills were nowhere near his mother's. They are made of solid granite and are able to withstand a large number of conventional hits and some magical ones, but are slow.

Iron: His personal body guard. It starts at about two feet tall and can grow to six feet. It is heavy, powerful, and can withstand a great deal of physical punishment. Like the Rock Puppets it is sculpted, but aside from a pair of eyes and a slit of a mouth it's faces is an unnervingly blank slate. Made just before his eighteenth birthday, he wanted the Iron puppet to be scary looking and menacing rather than friendly. So he went with the barest of dead eyed features. Made of solid iron, the iron puppet is Whistler's most durable puppet, but also his slowest. It can withstand the greatest number of hits making it nearly impervious to conventional attacks, but can be susceptible to large enough attacks of fire or water.

Quartz: His newest puppet made from pieces of quartz crystal it is fragile to physical attacks but is able to absorb and neutralize many forms of elemental attacks from fire, water, earth, wind, wood, lighting, metal, and some Mind attacks. He did not create it so his control over the Quartz Puppet is iffy, but he found it while exploring some of the ruins of the old Lazarus Institute. It had no determinable features simply a large spherical chunk for it's head, a large rectangle for the body. The creatures arms and legs are cylinders broken up into a hinged "upper" half and a "lower" half. The arms end in three claws sticking out of a sphere and it's feet are simply two large trapezoid shaped chunks. It almost seems like a living creature more than a puppet so once he activates it the thing acts and moves with a strange sentience. And even if he plays the song and "deactivates" it the being simply settles down and seems to just go to sleep rather than completely turning off like his own puppets. The Quartz Puppet is immune to Elemental attacks, but most susceptible to conventional attacks.

Clay: His first puppets left to him after his mother was killed in the disaster from ten years ago. She had carved them herself and they were perfect replicas of his mother and the man he assumed to be his father. They both looked to be around fifteen or so when he got them at age seven. But the beauty of his mother's power had them age with him once he turned fifteen himself. And as the Clay Puppets aged he saw just how much he looked liked his father. They are only about ten inches tall and do not grow, but they move with a fluidity bordering on life-like. They are his personal safety blankets and at night when he is alone and feeling down he plays their song and they dance all about him making him feel not so alone. They are made of dry clay as such cannot take many hits, nor does he ever use them in combat or anything.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 3)
1: Lock picking: The skill he uses the most, Whistler can pick and get past nearly any lock.
2: Slight of hand: His day job is a hustler and in this profession you need to be able to hide the winning card and assure everyone you're on the up and up.
3: Musician: The natural side effect of being a Puppet Master who uses music to control his creations Whistler is very skilled at using his pipe to make wonderful non-magical music.


Weapons(Limit of 2 weapons):
Utility Cleaver: A weapon he's carried with him his whole life it's a fixed blade cleaver with a heavier blade and thick handle used as much for fighting as cooking.
Pan Pipe: His magical pipe made of fine cherry wood he carried it with him at all times.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): He's a thief so armor isn't a big thing, but his coat is of a heavier make and offers protection from blades.

Equipment: Lock picks, a compass, penknife, and a necklace from his mother.

Personality: Whistler is a bit of a brooder. He keeps quiet and guards himself from many interactions. The Bay Water Bandits is more like a group of people stealing for themselves than a family. This leave kids like Whistler with no parents to become loners on the outside, but desperate for companionship on the inside. He's met a lot of kids like him one them a girl close to his own age. He wishes to get close to her, but his own wounded trust keeps him from doing it.

Likes: Girls, stealing, making music, making puppets, and watching clouds.

Dislikes: The rich, the city, getting caught, and going hungry.

Background: Like many in the B.W.Bs Whistler is an orphan. His father was killed by the Black Jackets, the totalitarian military that polices the poor regions of Halin. Bought and paid for by the rich they rarely take prisoners and are often made up of the most brutal crooks that come out of the slums.

Whistler was on the path himself, but his mother was a Puppet Master like him and according to her the Mernings have always been mages and many were rich. But only she and him are in Halin, the rest of their clan seemed to be dead or far from the bay city. She taught him a lot about magic and actually carved his first puppets for him. But that was at age ten, the next day she was killed in a coup against the Black Jackets. It was one of countless revolution that were snuffed out by the monsters. And each time they buckled down harder on the already heavily taxed communities. This was the last hell that turned Whistler into a Bay Water Bandit, he showed his skill as a Puppet Master to the leader, a man named Rike. The puppets his mother made him were the size of a child's doll, but this meant they could get into places others couldn't. And that was his ticket, and he cashed it in and added skills to his arsenal as the years passed.

And now he's a respected thief working directly with Rike in taking Halin back from the rich.

Chief Rizar Goldeneye

Name: Rizar Goldeneye
Age: 50
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Chief Goldeneye

Rizar is a giant among his people. 8 foot even and 900 pounds of pure muscle. His fur is golden white and his one eye is an intense white blue. His body is littered with countless gold tattoos, scars and bare patches. Telling his life as a warrior and Chief of a Warrior people. He is usually dressed as above, but with a large amount of animals bones and rare hides worked into his outfit. These are Charms and Honors and they show how successful he was as a hunter. But he can also be found in a simple blue robe and black and gold plants.

Race: Kessen
Occupation: Chief of the Goldeneyes

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Superior Physical Abilities: As a Kessen, Rizar is many times stronger, more durable, more agile, and faster than humans. And being a Chief of a Noble Pride he is at least twice as such over most other Kessens.

Enhanced Senses: The Chief's eyes, ears, nose, taste, and touch are to the level of  near superhuman.

Resistance to disease and poison: Kessens are a hardy people and are resistant to many diseases and poisons.

Claws and teeth: His claws and teeth are strong and sharp and as deadly as their weapons.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Warrior: Rizar is the best warrior in his tribe and is trained the ways of many weapons both Tribal and Modern.

Hunter: As a Noble Hunter Rizar has been trained from his cub days to hunt the most dangerous and prized beasts in the galaxy. The Thantoscale Lizards, the Luminous Stag, and the Dovs. He can track them anywhere and kill them with most weapons.

Leader: Despite being Chief due to his superior strength and Honors. Rizar has put his keen intelligence into learning about leadership from history and from the voices of his Pride.

Marksmen: While his people are a strictly tribal nation, they do go off world at times and have had outsiders invade their lands. So he trained himself in the use and maintenance of most modern firearms.

Lorekeeper: Another duty of being a Chief is knowing the lore of your Pride as well as the lore of the Kessen people. He teaches this to the cubs with the assistance of the Wild Priest of his Pride.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

The Beastlord's Voluge: Made of Dov bone and ironwood it his his primary weapon and his symbol of leadership. It's shape and construction makes it the match for all modern melee weapons.

Claws and Teeth: Always useful as weapons.

Plasma Rifle: A Hellfire Plasma Rifle with a multi-spectrum scope and extended mag. It fires green bolts of plasma that can burn through normal defenses.


Armor(one sensible suit of armor): When on his planet he wears the above outfit, when off-world he wears a suit of synthetic electromagnetic armor made of synthetic dragon scales and kevlar. It can keep conventional rounds and blades at bay but doesn't work so well against energy guns and weapons.


Equipment: Food, water, spare change of clothes, fire starting kit, weapon maintenance kits, extra ammo, and rope.

Personality: A very blunt and straight-shooting Kessen. Rizar was raised to the tunes of great heroes and legendary hunts, honor and honesty filled all such great tales. And as such they were burned into Chief Goldeneye's mind and built him into the warrior he is today.

Likes: Meat, hunting, tales of legend, his people, and his duty.
Dislikes: Vegetables, reading, fools, liars, enemies of his people, and many of the other Skillions.

Background: Chief of the Goldeneyes and their greatest warrior and hunter. Rizar is powerful and swift, he fights with the might and fierceness of the Kessens Tribe he rules and with the weapon forged with bone and wood. Born the Middle-Child of nine Kessen cubs, Rizar found himself riding the middle ground between his training. While his Elder siblings got groomed to take over for their parents once they died and his younger siblings were coddled and allowed to piss away their potential. He and his two sisters in the middle were treated to the best of both worlds, trained enough to be useful, but left with enough freedom to not be gun happy killers.

This combination of training is actually what led to Rizar becoming the Chief. When the last great Turf war between the Kessens and Kabbels happened in the 30th year of Rizar's life, his father and older siblings were all sent to fight and he was left in charge of the Pride's estates.
He had recently taking a female named Mizul to be his life mate and she had been better trained in running a Pride than he had so she was key in securing his place as the Acting Chief and making it secure for twenty years afterwards.

The war was a short, but grisly affair many deaths on both sides, some of which were his father and older siblings. He wasn't the next in line since his two sisters were ahead of him, but the skill and wisdom he displayed as the acting Chief convinced them to step down and let him take over.

Other: His late mate was a Silverclaw and a skilled Craftswoman, they have three cubs so far. Eldest: Rizon, Middle: Killan, Youngest: Mizar.

IN USE

Sir Maximus Starcore of the Children of Arcturus

Name: Sir Maximus Starcore of the Children of Arcturus
Age: 28
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Maximus

Sir Maximus is a Child of Arcturus. An order of noble mercenaries who still give credence to the term Soldier's of Fortune. As such Maximus is man of peak strength and martial skill, his body, while not overly muscular is sculpted into a pillar of power and agility. His blond hair is kept medium length and his eyes are the vibrant glow of a blue giant star.

Usually he is dressed in the above suit of white star metal armor minus the blood stains.

Outside of the armor he can be found in blue jeans, a silver and white vest with the Child of Arcturus symbol on the right side, under that he wears a simple white shirt, and on his feet are a pair of comfortable leather boots.

Race: Human
Job: Son of Arcturus Mercenary

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Natural Adaptation: If there is one thing humans are good at besides tearing themselves apart, it's adapting to their environment.

Blending In: Thanks to the fact that humans have populated the universe now, most planets, Maximus can blend in pretty well, simply because of his race.

Fit: From years of training and fighting Maximus is a very fit man and at the peak of his strength, speed, agility, and durability.

Smart: A dumb merc is a dead merc, the Children of Arcturus educate all new recruits to be more than just some dumb gunman. Maximus is a grand example of this education.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Shooter: Maximus is a skilled marksmen with both conventional weapons and energy ones.

Bladesmen: A carried over skill from their early days of inception when the Skorne had nearly eliminated all guns in the galaxies where their people had bases. Maximus and his fellow mercs are very skilled sword fighters.

Fighter: Just like shooting and blade fighting, Maximus and his comrades are very skilled martial artists. While not bound by any one discipline Maximus has enough knowledge of various styles to allow him to fight on nearly any level.

Technologically skilled: Maximus's intelligence carries over into his skill with working many technologies. Computers, weapon maintenance, piloting various vehicles, and even robots.

Space Ranger: Never knowing when he'd be dropped into some inhospitable environment Maximus has trained himself to be a survivor knowing to start fires, hunt, gather, etc.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Arcturus laser sword: The blade in his picture. It is made out of one forged piece of star metal with an energy producing battery built into the handle. It sounds the actual blade itself with an electric force that acts like a plasma cutter.

Shock Shotgun, A weapon that shoots out both shock bullets that can immobilize organics and Cyborgs then launch EMP grenades that fully shut down robots.

Beretta Neos Pistol, Modified to fire either normal bullets, laser rounds, or plasma rounds.

Bear Fang, A smaller less powerful version of the Arcturus Laser Sword.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): The above suit of white star metal armor. While archaic in its appearance the suit is a wonder of technological achievement. Star Metal itself is harder and lighter than most metals, but it also carries an inexplicable electromagnetic charge that works as extra defense against energy weapons

Equipment: Money, spare change of clothes, fire starting kit, flashlight, weapon maintenance kits, extra ammo, contracts, job related documents, and rope.

Augs(Limit of 3): None

Personality: Maximus is a man of powerful conviction and honorable disposition. Raised in what could be called a Knightly Order Sir Starcore is a gentleman and a soldier. His moral compass firmly points towards truth, justice, and virtue. But he also has a quick trigger finger when it comes to gunning down evildoers, this can get him in trouble and has before.

Likes: Justice, doing a good job, women, training, and upholding the word of law.
Dislikes: Evil, criminals, failing, liars, wasting time, and breaking the law.

Background

Sir Maximus Starecore was born into order he now calls home. Both of his parents were also Children of Arcturus, his father was a Knight and his mother a Scholar. And while outsiders were welcome, most of his chapter were those born into this life. Everyday was training, socializing, eating, learning, and sleeping.

Young Maximus loved the structure and schedule of his military style upbringing. Never did he have to question the hows, whys, or whens most young children had to suffer through. Some would say this type of living could only create brainwashed killing machines or maladjusted psychopaths and with bad leaders and teachers this type of thing is very common. But the Children of Arcturus are rarities in a universe seemingly full of Sinners and Evildoers, high morality is a prerequisite for being a part of the order and the Elders knows who has the proper alignment and who doesn't. Those with it are allowed to continue with the group and reap the full benefits that come with being a member of the noble group of soldiers.

Maximus was always the golden boy of the mercenary band when it came to their morals and high standards of training. Many rumors have been floating around that he's on the fast track to becoming the Captain or even Master of the merc band. But first he needs to get through one last mission that'll force him to work alongside the type of people he's spent a lifetime hunting down and bringing to justice.

Other: Sir Maximus is single right now, but he is not inexperienced when it comes to dealing with the opposite sex.

Captain Argolith

Name: Argolith
Age: 255
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Argolith

8'8, weighing a massive 900 pounds. His wings stretch out to 9 feet and his tail is 7 feet long. His scales are a dull gold in color and his eyes are an even duller gold in color. The usual clothing he can be seen in is just a pair of bone and leather pants.

Race: Dragonkin
Occupation: Captain of the Dragon Knights.


Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Strength and durability: Like all Dragonkin, Argo is extremely strong and his scales make him very durable even against magical attacks.

Claws and Teeth: His claws and teeth are very strong and tough.

Flight: With strong wings Argolith can fly upwards of Mach 2 in speeds.

Senses: All five of Argo's senses are very keen and can work through most anything.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Heavy Warrior: Trained for many years in the use of heavy armor and two handed weapons. Argo is a tank in and outside his armor.

Survivor: Argolith didn't make it to Captain of the Dragon Knights by being easy to kill. He has extensively trained and conditioned to be the single most stubborn and resourceful warrior amongst his peers.

Hand-to-hand: While not preferred Argo can fight quite well with his claws, teeth, and tail.

Thrown: While not skilled with actual ranged weapons, Argo can hurl spears and javelins like bolts of lightning.

Tactics: A trained warrior must always be thinking ahead if he wants to live to see the next battle. Argo lives this idea to the best of his ability he plans a few steps ahead before each battle.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Battle axe: Argolith's primary weapon is a large wildly shaped battles axe. It's name is Mountain Cleaver and it's so massive only Argo can wield it with any skill.

Scrolls: Argo has no skill in magic, but Mages do exist amongst the Dragonkin. And they can create Scrolls that the Non-magical Dragonkin can use. They are one-shot spells and Argo carries a Fireball Scroll, Ice Storm Scroll, Storm Scroll, and three Poison Scrolls.

Claws, teeth, and tail: Always present and always useful his claws, teeth, and tail are as much weapons as Mountain Clever.

Four javelins: Four simple wood and steel javelins often tipped with poison.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): Usually only needing his own scales he goes into most battles wearing just a pair of bone and leather pants. But at times when a fight requires more, he wears a full suit of enchanted bone mail into battle.

Equipment: Food, water, weapon maintenance kit, spare change of clothing, fire starting tools, and extra scrolls.

Personality: Argolith is a warrior through and through, but under his scaly demeanor beats the heart of a gentle poet. Outside of official business Argo isn't a very violent individual. And being the son of a noble lord has given him the honor and courtly manners every gentleman needs. He dislikes laziness and forces those under him to always be improving themselves in academics or in training.

Likes: Battle, meat, training, flying, and females.
Dislikes: Laziness, vegetables, cowards, dishonor.

Background: Trained from hatchling in the noble ways of the Knight and the strength and power of his Draconic Heritage, Argo is the Captain of the Dragon Knights. Trained in the way of the heavy warrior he wields a battle axe with the power of a Dragon and the nobility of a Lord. Born the eldest son of three hatchlings, Argo has been groomed from birth to be his father's successor. A role he hasn't always wanted, but one he will accept until he can choose something else. But such a thing seems highly unlikely at this point.

Through the years of life, Argo has trained into the greatest warrior in the Kingdom, but away from the eyes of the public Argo has been striving towards being a great scholar. War is the way of the Dragonkin, but not every subject wishes to devote themselves to killing things. Some are lucky enough to have the choice, but the members of the Royal Rookery aren't so fortunate, they are born with the blood of Deathscale, the God Warrior of their people in their veins. Ruling, War, Tactics, or Smithing, these are the only option open to Argolith and his siblings. That is unless they wish to renounce their royal station and go into exile, thrown out of the Mountain of the Dragon King and forced to wander the lowlands until death. It would be a grim and tough life, but at least they would be free. Argo hasn't come to the point yet, but as he draws closer and closer to succession his heart might be torn in that direction.

Other: He has no mate or children.

IN USE

Callan

PHYSICALITY

Physical Description:

Callan

He usually dresses in jeans, t-shirt, and whatever type of jacket he needs for the season. He also has his mother's Black Stone Charm necklace.

Name: Callan
Nickname: Cal or Rox
Alias: Laddie Black Stone

Age: 290
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Straight

Hair: Short and brown but changes with the terrain

Facial Hair: None

Eyes: Green but changes with the terrain

Build: Lean but fit and strong

Skin Tone: Pale

Height: 5'10

Weight: 150lbs

Unique Body Features: Being a full bloodied Rock Fae, Rox has a pair of wings that blend in with the terrain around him. As do his eyes and hair.

MENTALITY

Personality: Born and raised in the household of the Never Realm's Equinox Knight, Cal has been loaded up with expectations, promises, and hopes. While honored to have that lineage the young man is not too keen on being the golden boy of the Rock Fae. This has given him a somewhat laid-back and hands off approach to things. He stays in the back and mostly offers advice over going in head first himself. He's a pleasant and somewhat charming young man as well, even without the natural attraction Fae have. 

Quirks: Being a Fae, Cal cannot directly lie, he can talk around a topic like a lawyer but he cannot lie. He is also bound to the rule of three, if something is asked three times or promised three times he has to do it. He also has a liking to words games.

Fears: Pure Iron, the Fae Queens, being bound to anyone due to his Fae inability to break a promise.

Goal: Get out of his mother's shadow and live his own life.

Strengths: Cool under pressure, clever, and able to look at things from a warrior's mindset being the son of the Never's greatest warrior will give you that. Cal has the deep morality of his mother but not her deep sense of duty.

Weaknesses: His desire to not be the center of attention gives him an almost unmotivated vibe. He doesn't take initiative towards something unless he has to or he can manage to convince himself to do it. Having dealt with people telling him what he's supposed to be someday all the time, he has developed a dislike of listening to people.


COMBAT PROWESS

Combativeness: Cal is a balanced offensive and defensive fighter. Trained by Kana in the way of the warrior he is a strong, adaptable, and smart warrior.

Natural Talents: Being a Rock Fae, Cal has a number of natural talents.

Enhanced physical capabilities: Being of the physically strongest race of Sidhe despite his size, Cal has great strength, endurance, durability and hardiness compared to other Fae but he's not the fastest or most agile of the Fae.

Flight: Cal can fly at high speeds with his wings out.

Geo augmentation: He's at his strongest when near the earth and in a rocky area. But as long as there is earth beneath his feet he can still be a great asset.

Digging prowess: Much like a mole if he really wants to escape he'll disappear into the ground and dig his way to safety.

Language of the Stone: As silly as it sounds every kind of rock has a different voice and very much like a Forest Fae can tap into the voices of the tree around them, a Rock Fae can do the same with rock, though it takes longer, speed is just not a rocks way.

General control of Earth: Because Fae are more caretakers of nature than generals, Cal's power over rocks and earth is limited. He can still attack with them and use them to help him, but not as much or as powerfully.

Environmental Adaptation: Depending on the land around him, his body naturally changes to adapt to the climate.

Attraction: Being a full blooded Fae, Cal has an otherworldly charm and handsomeness. While only partially under his control it brings people around him more than he would like.

Golem Summon: Using his mother's charm Cal can summon Sir Blackstone to come to his aid. Because Sir Blackstone's power level is the same as Ca's, the golem will grow stronger as the boy does.


Skills: Cal is a strong warrior and stronger in terms of defense than his mother was at his age because he learned to use his Rock Fae skills earlier than her. His quick wit and ability keeps him outside of dire situations. Cal also has a strong and working knowledge of the Never Realm and all of it's residents, laws, and quirks as well as it's magic. He also knows modern First Aid, sewing, and tracking.

POWERS

Earth/Rock control

The ability to shape the rock and earth around him into any desired shape or use, and enhance his own abilities.

Tier 1

Tier 1
     
Rock Call Offensive: Cal can levitate rocks with his mind and create projectiles or crude weapons with them and make spikes of rock with it. He is fast in their forming but it still takes a few seconds to make it work.
       
Rock Shield Defensive: Cal can create shields and walls by ripping boulders out of the ground. He can also create rock barriers directly from the ground He is fast in their forming but it still takes a few seconds to make it work.
       
Earth Sense Passive: Cal can sense movement through the ground with 500 feet of him if there is actual earth under him even if it's through a layer of floor and concrete.

Sir Blackstone Activated: Sir Blackstone is like having a large silent animal on your side. He's strong, he's tough, and he can talk.

Tier 2

Tier 2
       
Rock Call Offensive: Cal's control over rocks is increased doublefold and he can shape them into slightly stronger and more refined looking weapons and more deadly rock spikes and ridges. His strength is also doubled while his physical speed and rock formation speed is only increased once over.
       
Rock Shield Defensive: Cal can form stronger and more refined shields from stone. And he can form more than one strong shield at a time The rock barriers are quicker to form and stronger. It also doubles his durability. And the same rock formation speed applies here.
       
Earth Sense Passive: Cal can now sense movement within 1000 feet and through thin metal.

Sir Blackstone Activated: Sir Blackstone's abilities are doubled.

Tier 3

Tier 3
       
Rock Call Offensive: Cal's control of rocks is increased one fold. The rock weapons are now formed into their strongest and most refined forms. Extremely strong stone and can become perfect copies of nearly all melee weapons. And the spikes are able to pierce most hides and armor.
       
Rock Shield Defensive: Much like Rock Call, this one has been maximized in terms of rock strength. His shields are perfect copies of actual shields only made of stone. The barriers can now withstand all physical attacks and some magical ones.
       
Rock Sense Passive: The range of the earth sense increases to 1500 feet and he can now sense through medium thickness metal.

Sir Blackstone Activated: Sir Blackstone's abilities are increased once over and he can do basic earth magic similar to what Cal does on Tier 1.

Tier 4

Tier 4
       
Rock Call Offensive: Cal's control over and the speed of his formation speed over earth doubles once more and he can now use rubies in his weapons and make them even deadlier and stronger. His strength is also doubled again and the spikes are now formed out of sharp rubies and jump up quicker.
       
Rock Shield Defensive: With his durability doubled and his control over his rock defenses supplemented by adding Sapphires into their construction Cal is quite tough to bring down. The rock barriers are quicker and made of sapphires.
       
Rock Sense Passive: The range is increased to half a mile and through slightly thick metal.

Sir Blackstone Activated: The golems abilities are doubled and he takes on rubies and sapphires into his body and weapons.

Tier 5

Tier 5
         
Rock Call Offensive: Cal's control is now absolute and second nature over earth and he can now make weapons out of diamonds. His strength is increased another fold and his rock formation ability is instantaneous. The spikes are instantaneous and made of diamonds that can penetrate all the but the strongest of magic defenses. 
       
Rock Shield Defensive: Along with the shields being made of diamonds he can now form a diamond shell around his body and have it act like a second suit of armor. His durability is also increased once over again. The barriers are instantaneous and made of diamonds that take massive magical attacks to sunder.
       
Rock Sense Passive: The rock sense's range is increased to a full mile in any direction and he can use it even if he's lock in massively thick metal box.

Sir Blackstone Activated: Sir Blackstone's abilities are tripled and his control over rock is equal to Cal's at Tier 4. He and his weapons are now made of diamonds.

Weapon

Weapon Name: The Hammer Gem
Weapon Type: Battle hammer
Material: Enchanted amethyst and mithril

Ammo: N/A
Length: 2 feet
Weight: 30 pounds
Weapon Description/Info: The Hammer Jem

EQUIPMENT

Special Items: Sir Blackstone's summon pendent.

Regular Items: A tactical pack that holds whatever supplies he could need on any given day. First Aid Kit, rope, camping kit, sleeping bag, and survival tools.


BACKGROUND

Bio/History: Born to Lady Kana and Lord Grazal of the Rock Fae Realm. Cal is the only son of this prominent family and the golden boy of the Rock Fae. Raised in a life of privilege and trained to follow in his parents' footsteps as a Warrior, a Mage, and a Lord. He excelled at the lessons but lacked the drive to do anything with them past pleasing his parents and teachers with his progress. He showed no interest in Fae Politics or in actually learning to be a Lord in the Sidhe Court.
He only wished to be left alone and excel under his skill without having the legacy of his parents winning half the battle for him. He loved them both dearly, but they cast long shadows. At first he tried to fight it and worked to prove himself to be his own person, but at each turn the people praised his training at the hand of his parents not his own skill. Eventually he just stopped fighting all together. He went through the motions, smiled at the praise, and took whatever reward he was given, but his heart just wasn't into it. As the years rolled on (which for a Fae is much longer than a human) all of his drive left him. He isn't lazy, he just lost the will to prove himself.

His mother has always been the hopeful type, and she remembered the days of her youth in the Human World. In the Never everything comes easy to a Fae, they have ambient magic swirling all around them to pull from. Kana remembered where she learned most of her tricks and trained herself into the warrior she is, it gave her the sense of duty and drive she needed to get where she is now. So it was decided that on Cal's 18th birthday he would be sent into the Human Realm in hopes he could settle his mind and come back ready to embrace his birthright.
As he arrived in the Human Realm Cal found the spark of desire slowly returning to him, here was someplace he could make his own name and be his own man.

Rivet

Name: Thomas Mulligan, but goes by Rivet
Age: 35
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description):

Rivet

6'7 weighing 300lbs (280 before the arms). While most of his body hasn't changed his arms are dull silver in color and cybernetic. He usually wears the black guard uniform of the full time Hanger Guards.

Race: Cyborg
Job: Scout

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Blend: Common within his race, Rivet is very capable of blending in and adapting to most of his surroundings.

Adaptation: Throughout the centuries humans have been plagued with diseases, famine, and near total annihilation, their genetic coding took all of this into consideration and naturally adapted them to their surroundings, even as those surroundings changed.

Double Strong man: Rivet's arms give him double the strength of a normal man of his side and build.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Scout: A lifetime before joining the Black Star he was roaming Scout for the Great Human Dominion. He fought in many battles and lived through each of them new skills learned and old skills improved Terrain association, map reading, tracking, etc.

Crackshot: His accuracy with all kinds of guns are honed through years of combat and won him a few shooting competitions.

Knife Fighter: In the same vein as his shooting skills, his skill with melee weapons and knives in particular are impressive, he can throw them with expert skill.

Survivor: Starting from his days in Basic Training, to surviving the underworld with the Privateers, Rivet knows how to survive on next to nothing in most places you can drop him.

Fitness: Always looking to improve himself Rivet has a rigorous exercise regimen that keeps him in the peak of physical condition. 


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Quasar Ranger Laser Rifle

Silver Star Laser Pistol

Zombie Slayer Machete

Armor(one sensible suit of armor):[hide= Dominion Scout armor]

Saved from his days in the army this armor protects him from bullets, melee attacks, lasers and some plasma rounds. The helmet also gives him an All-Terrain Re breather and night vision.[/hide]

Augs(Limit of 3): Two Adonis Cybernetic Arms: Given to him after he was injured in his last tour with the Dominion. The cybernetic arms give him added strength, are fantastically heat resistant, have a built in Geiger Counter, and are partially powered by his own moving body thanks to the kinetic mod. While still susceptible to EMPs they aren't rendered useless.


Personality: Rivet is a gentleman with blood on his hands. He's a trained killer, but goes out of his way to help someone especially women. Good sense of duty mixed with a quick mind for action and reaction.

Likes: Women, his duty, decimating in the firing range, relaxing with a good drink and good company.
Dislikes: Boredom, getting cheated, being used, getting blown up.

Background

Buried under years of repression and an ardent desire to not go into it lies the origins of Thomas Mulligan. Born on Dominion Prime  (a.k.a Earth), in the small city of Dura's backstreets. The eldest son of a low-class leg-breaker working for Johnny Malone of the Irish Mob and a good woman that somehow stayed with him  long enough to have and raise five children.

Thomas's mother, Mary was the closest thing to a Saint the young man had ever seen. And  even without the help of their father Alexander, aside from some money and when the kids got "useful" he would take them to work. She raised all five of their children to be decent enough individuals. Sadly the apples never fall too far from the tree, while his youngest Alice took after Mary, being as kind and good as the woman and protected by her against every form of vileness she had seen befall her other children. The other four siblings took to the dark streets following in Alex's shadowy footsteps even when it drove one of them to kill him.

His youngest brother Samuel or as he was known around Dura, Sammy Five Fingers. He was the smartest and quickest of the siblings got the best  grades and had enough heart and skill to get odd little jobs to help out. Sadly he was always looking for the next big challenge, and  excelling in school and fixing old computers wasn't enough for him. Alex, always being the opportunistic low-life turned young Sam onto life as a padfoot and drug mule at 10, he was also a thief, and when he could manage it an Accountant for black market dealers much at the encouragement of Alexander. He was shot in the head by a better prepared target at 15.

His next youngest brother Christopher was only a year older than Samuel and two older than Alice, but was forced down a very different path. He had gone missing from their house one day in August after his mother had gone to the store with little Sammy bouncing along on her back  leaving the boy alone despite knowing better. She would only be gone for a minute or so and Alex was due home, too bad he was drunk with his buddies at this time. Poor Chris though always being the best looking of the siblings was knocked out and kidnapped from his home. He renumbered very little between being knocked out and waking up, but when he did  awaken he found himself on a street corner dressed as a Boy Scout at 12 with condoms and lubricant jammed into his pockets. A large gruff looking man was standing behind him with a small bat in his meaty hand.
He tried to ask what was going on, but all his trouble got him was a sound smack across the mouth. What followed Chris never spoke of, even after  he was rescued and brought back home by some of Alex's associates three years later, the only decent thing he ever did for the boy. The pretty, rosy cheeked, boy was gone, in his place was a strung out husk of a young man with desperation and despair hanging over him like a cloak. He took his own life at 16.

Being only a few months younger than Thomas and a year older than Chris, was their eldest sister Rose. While she wasn't a Cutpurse or Prostitute, she was "Daddy's Little Girl" for  most of her life. She did anything and everything Alex asked, even when  it hurt both her and her mother. He liked Rose's red hair and well formed body, he even let his associates appreciate her in the same way. This continued for years until she got to the age 17, then he cast her  aside and she was lost without the attention.
It sent her into the arms of a number of older men, one she actually married. She was happy  even after the family saw bruises forming on her usually glowing features one day, Rose brushed it off. As the years went on though more bruises formed followed by some broken bones. The young woman kept believing it would end and eventually it did, on the eve of her 20th birthday the Mulligans found her in a hospital with a busted up face and so many broken bones it looked like she was run over by a bus. She died in that hospital bed at age 20. The husband died a few days later with  his face smashed in with a spiked baseball bat.

As bad as these three fates were Thomas's was arguably the worse. His life was a cloud  of ignorance at the horrors his siblings were going through. He had always been the biggest and strongest of them, as soon as he was growing facial hair he was indoctrinated into the world of being an Enforcer for the Irish Mob. Young Thomas worked long hours and was at the Mob's HQ more than he was home. He worked more jobs than Alexander did who was happy to just live off the glory of the Don's Rising Star that just happened to be his son. First by their father then by her husband, it was after Rose's funeral that Thomas was confronted with how much had happened that he could've stopped. He could've taught Sammy a better use for his brains, he could've been here to save Christoper from getting kidnapped, and he could've been there to bash the faces of his father and his friends from hurting Rosy. He wasn't though, he was collecting money and hurting people for Malone, as they lowered his sister into the ground something cracked in Thomas's 21 year old mind, he had to make this right. First thing was to avenge Rose, the husband was found drunk as a skunk in an alley and Thomas played Tee-Ball for the first time with the man's head.

Then came all of Alex's buddies that  violated Rose, they met similar ends at the hard end of a bat. The guys that kidnapped and pimped Chris out followed them, and lastly came Alex  himself. Killing his own father was the high-point and the end of Thomas's career as an Enforcer. The guys Thomas put down were scumbags on everyone's shit-list so they weren't missed and he was placed on another job helping his father out. They were supposed to collect from a big-time banker who had penchant for a certain kind of Irish Hooker, but didn't like paying on time. They were to go to his house and collect by any means necessary, Thomas had other plans though. As soon as they entered the banker's backyard he struck. A quick rabbit punch stunned Alex long enough for his son to tackle him to the ground. Alex had been a fighter and leg-breaker much longer than Thomas, so the young man's advantage didn't last long. Quickly bucking the boy off his back, Alex pounced onto him like a hunting cat and began pummeling the kid with all his might. Thomas was tough though, he took the hits until the old man was slowing down from all the work he wasn't used to.
As the old man slowed Thomas put all his rage into his next attack, smashing his head squarely into the man's nose he heard the appendage break with a loud crunch. With pain blinding him, Alex fell off the boy's barrel like chest and gave Thomas the chance to be the hunting cat. And he capitalized on it, rolling on top of Alex, pinning his father's hips and arms down. He continuously smashed his hard head into Alex's face, the old man fought back after the first few hits, but as the kept coming he stopped. Thomas had lost track of time punishing his bastard of a father. He didn't stop hitting the bloody pulp of Alexander Mulligan's head until the police pulled him off the corpse covered in blood, bone, and brain matter.

Thomas spent the month in prison as he waited for his trial, his mother and little sister visited often. He also got a visit from Johnny Malone himself, the mobster had taken a liking to Thomas and coming from a broken home himself saw a lot of himself in the boy. After what the kid had done Malone felt he and his remaining family deserved a chance at a better life. The Mob Boss talked with a friend from his days in the military and secured a spot for young Thomas in the Dominion's Army. With no better option on the bleak horizon Thomas said he'd take it if he was found Not Guilty. Malone assured him he would be, and as the month closed out it proved true, due to the young man's past he was acquitted of all charges even trespassing on the banker's property.

Through all this, many may ask why Mary stayed with the man that seemed intent on killing his own children himself or driving them to death at the hands of others. It was simple, she had hope that one day the suffering would end. And it did the day Thomas became a soldier and it has continued ever since. He's the wonderful honest man she knew he could be and he's done his siblings memory honor.The very next day, Thomas joined the army and used his sign-on bonus to move his mother and Alice who was quite the lovely teenager now to a better part of town. The next nine years of Thomas's life was spent killing more people and waging war against anyone he was pointed at.
He was hoping he could put killing behind him, but he was too good at it and not much else so he kept it up, right up until he got both his arms blown off. Doc Kari who was working as a Military Doctor at the time replaced them with his two Adonis Cybernetic Arms and he took his walking papers after he was put back on duty. He was glad to be done with killing, but as history as shown. "One with a past of violence will always find himself in the company of violence"  Rivet, as his squadmates called him after he killed an enemy that had ambushed him on leave with a Rivet gun. Was once more out of work with not much skill wise aside from war, he drifted around the galaxy doing odd-jobs and sending nearly all the money back home to his mother and sister. It was during this time he found the open Guard spot for the Black Star Privateers, he took it around the time Togga took over as Captain. Keeping some money for himself he sent the rest back home and now he's happy for once in his life.

Athos Raoul "Rook" LeBeau

Name: Athos Raoul "Rook" LeBeau
Age: 19

Height:6'0
Eye Color: red

Gender: male
Orientation: Straight

Side: Titan
Personality: Smooth, charming, a little cocky, but generally goodhearted and fun loving. Pretty much a younger version of his dad.

Appearance:

Rook

Powers & Abilities: He possesses the same powers as his father Gambit( ability to tap into energy and expel it in an explosive means enhanced agility and dexterity and great aim with small objects) and a  few of his mother Rogue's but only some of her strength and durability and he has an immunity to basic psychic attacks. He also has street smarts and street fighting skills.

Weakness: He has trouble controlling the energy he taps into often  resulting in violent backfires or humorous duds. Also still has trouble  syncing all his abilities into a cohesive machine.
Weapons: Cane sword and a few cases of game dies

History & Bio: Born to the X-Men Rogue and Gambit via artificial insemination(for obvious reasons). Rook was raised in the Xavier  Institute but traveled with Gambit around the world or at least when his powers weren't in a slump and threatening to blow up everything he touched. His training was about as varied as you'd expect what between his parents and the teachers at the mansion he acquired a vast array of skills, but soon he grew weary of all the books and classes. He wanted to actually use his powers and since the rest of the X-Men were either doing missions he couldn't take part in or not doing any at all he went in search of a group he could join namely the Teen Titans.

Other: His room is nothing special just a little splash of Cajun in the HQ.

IN USE

Ezekiel Samson

Name: Ezekiel Samson
Age: 35
Gender:Male

The man and the beast

Human Form: Large and imposing 6'6 250lbs with brown hair a thick beard complete with handlebar mustache and brown eyes. He dresses in jeans, cavalry boots, military scout jacket, old cavalry stetson hat, cavalry gloves, and a blue union shirt most of the time.

Beast Form: The size of a T-rex covered in extremely thick red skin with a black mane. Eyes are pure white and his claws are strong enough to rend steel.

Outfit reference

close up

beast form

Race: Behemoth Earth Elemental
Job: Bounty Hunter of Manaridge

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4)

Earth Control: Wilful mastery over the earth element. I.E. levitating rocks, making sand walls.

Behemoth: The beast within, a form that can either be unlocked willingly or under duress which turns him into a huge savage creature named a Behemoth. All his abilities and powers are unleashed to their maximum potential.

Physically superior: In both human and beast form Ezekiel is superhuman in strength, speed, and durability.

Senses: Akin to that of a wild animal in many senses of the word Ezekiel has very keens eyes, hearing, and sense of smell.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Gunman: Life on the frontier means living by the gun. Be it a pistol or rifle Ezekiel is a crackshot and able to fire from the hip nearly as well as looking down the sights.

Survivor: As with the gun you need to know how to live off the land. From making fire, to foraging edible herbs, to hunting and skinning killed animals. Ezekiel can do it all.

Fighter: Earth Elementals are known for being strong hand-to-hand combatants. Ezekiel is a cruder version of this, but he can hold his own in most cases.

Lawman: Despite never wanting the job, Ezekiel needs to learns the laws of every town and territory he works in and this has turned him into Manaridge’s Sheriff. He can start his day hunting down a Banshee and end it by tossing a drunk Leprechaun into the storage shed turned jail cell by his house.

Loremaster: Being a hunter of supernatural creatures and magical beings comes with a need to hunt for the knowledge needed to harm and capture them. Ezekiel hates researching, but he still does it so he can bring in a good payday.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Repeating Rifle

Double Action Revolver

Volcanic Pistol

Bone handeld-Knife


Armor(one sensible suit of armor): His natural skin.

Equipment: Bounty papers, badge, camping supplies, fresh water, spare clothes, extra ammo, gun oil, sharpening stone, various charms, trinkets, and special items needed for hunting monsters, and a  tent.

Personality: Tough and rugged, he doesn't stand for troublemaker and has no problem smacking one around if he sees them in action, but being the most infamous Bounty hunter in the territory he just needs to glare to get his message across most of the time.

Likes: Women, meat, getting the job done, wide open spaces, his guns, the desert

Dislikes: Losing his temper, alcohol, smoking, failing, big cities, closed in spaces, the ocean.

Background

Ezekiel’s family came over from the Russian part of Europe then under the name of Samovsky. They changed it to Samson after meeting some trouble in the East before moving to the West.

Earth Elemental Behemoths like his family were a common species out in Russia, but here in America there weren’t many. Earth Elementals here are more like Golems or Gnomes smaller and better at adapting than the lumbering beasts. But they were never easy to kill so while it took them longer to do it they adapted and easily fell into roles as hunters, miners, and in Ezekiel’s case a Bounty Hunter.

While his family did their best to keep him in check, Ezekiel was a troubled youth. He was out in the wilds causing trouble and killing what got in his way. Luckily it was mostly just animals like snakes and rabbits, but around age eight he took it too far. He and his father were out hunting for deer, now normally they were the only ones out, today though was different. Out with them was an old Gargoyle named Calabar and his son Dairgo, unlike many tales of their kind Gargoyles don’t turn to stone during the day. They are simply nocturnal, but a shortage of food forced the pair to be out during daylight.

Ezekiel was in a morose mood, more so than usual. His father had sent him ahead for drive the game towards him, but instead the young boy wanted to kill the animal himself. Unfortunately the young gargoyle had the same idea in mind. They met upon a grassy hill and that was the last thing the young Behemoth remembered before he was being pulled off the battered young boy both of them bleeding and wounded by the young Gargoyle was much worse off but her would live. By Behemoth law Ezekiel’s life was forfeit and in the hands of the Gargoyle’s father, blood for blood was their way, but the Gargoyle was a wise old man, his son was most dear to him, but his son was still alive so taking a life for it wouldn’t be just. So after the greatest beating of Ezekiel’s life his debt was repaid. And after he recovered the Gargoyle took him on as a student. The Gargoyle was once a prominent lawman himself, but age had begun to wear on him and he had retired to raise a family. His son was also his pupil, but there was only so much they could practice just himself and his father. So having another student the boy’s age would be a boon.

This began Ezekiel’s training not only as a Bounty Hunter, but a man of self control and discipline. Calabar died many years ago, but Dairgo is still around and Ezekiel often seeks the male’s help or company should he need it.


Other: While not a virgin Ezekiel must practice control and often abstinence so as not to let loose the monster inside of him.

Clive "Rooster" Chance

Name: Clive Chance
Age: 24
Gender: male

Appearance(pic and description)

Rooster

Rooster, the man, the myth, the guy, who is only 5'6 and weighs a limber 135lbs. Built like a jackrabbit with the pride of a Rooster. Clive's attitude reflect his style choices too, his hair is spiky, his clothing is cool and a combination of leather and fine cotton. His eyes mischievous and brown and his lips curled in a perpetual smirk.

Race: Mutant Human
Job: Freelance Smuggler

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Natural Adaptation: If there is one thing humans are good at besides tearing themselves apart, it's adapting to their environment.

Blending In: Thanks to the fact that humans have populated the universe now, most planets, Clive can blend in pretty well, simply because of his race.

Sound mimicry: A mutant ability from birth. Rooster can mimic many sounds he's heard, animals calls, machinery, and even sound effects like the sound of machine gun fire.

Lucky: A possible phantasmal mutation. Clive has had strangely random and potent luck his entire life.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Clever Scoundrel: Years of running around the galaxy have certified Rooster in every clever ways and street-wise skills of the Rogue. Like pick-pocketing, lockpicking, etc

Sharp-Shooter: Despite being a mostly run and gun type of guy, when he's able to take the time he is a good shoot with rifles and pistols.

Hand Weapons expert: Whether it's knives, bats, or hatchets. Rooster is good at using their miniature weapons of mass destruction and is a good dual wielder.

Pilot: While land and sea vehicles leave him at a lose, air and space ones are second nature to him. From Airplanes to Spaceships if it has wings Rooster can work it.

Security Expert: Years of stealing things and spying have turned Rooster into an expert when it comes to beating any security network short of Skorne Master Security systems.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Pluggers: A pair of pistols that fire normal rounds and can fire Electro-Slugs that lob EMP pellets out and can fry cyborgs and robots.

The Rooster's Spurs: The knives in the pic made of a very strong and sharp alloy.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor) Rooster has little use for most armor, but he does carry a jacket and a pair of pants that are bullet and knife proof.

Equipment: Money, spare change of clothes, fire starting kit, hacker's PDA, flashlight, weapon maintenance kits, extra ammo, contracts, job related documents, and rope.

Augs(Limit of 3): None

Personality: Lovable and energetic Rooster has been called a child trapped in the body of a slightly larger child. While he is capable of being serious, it isn't his first choice. He enjoys life and he makes sure everyone around him knows it, whether it's making jokes or pulling pranks a day with Rooster is a day with a madman. But he does take his work serious and always delivers the goods.

Likes: Women, money, stealing, flying, partying, relaxing, laughter, and pranks.

Dislikes: The Law, Bounty Hunters, getting caught, stress, silence, losing a job, being poor.

Background

Clive was born on Dominion Delta, the fourth planet founded by the Great Human Dominion. Off near the edge of the Regison quadrant and under the influence of a medium range blue star. The higher levels of radiation have had a distinct impact on the residents of Dominion Delta.

Every resident on this planet is a mutant. In fact Delta has been called the Goldilocks Zone of mutants. The mutations are helpful and very few are disfiguring, ranging from enhanced strength to genius level intelligence. Clive, his sister Clara, and their parents Clark and Cassandra are no different. Even in a society where the more mutations you have the more power you have, this never slowed the family down. Each only has one mutation, but have worked themselves neck deep into the politics of Delta.

A politician, a merchant empress, a smuggler, and an assassin. These are the varied and powerful jobs Clive and his family have won by skill and ruthlessness. Clive's future was chosen fairly early on, he'd always been a mischievous boy with sticky fingers so an occupation of Thievery was the best route.

From slipping out of the candy store with a few extra lollipops at six, to stealing cars at sixteen, to stealing his first million dollar spaceship at twenty. Rooster was good at stealing things and this was used by his parents. The best merchandise for his mother's store and nabbing state secrets for his father and stealing some cool G's on the side for himself and Clara. Now at twenty-four Rooster is one of the best Thieves and Smugglers in his region quadrant and also one of the most-wanted men by the Galactic Alliance. Even spending most of his life on the run Rooster doesn't let things get him down, life's a game. And once you've stolen the rule book it's nearly impossible to lose.

Other: Surprisingly Rooster is a man looking to settle down before he get blown to bits trying to smuggle some illicit goods from one Scoundrel Colony to another, but his life doesn't leave much time for romance.

Forcebreaker the Forsaken

Name:Forcebreaker
Titles and/or Aliases: The Forsaken, F.B., Breaker, or Force.
Role: Assistant to the Elders
Age: 45

Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Species: Inkkin
World: Nyx (the Inkkin homeland under the surface of Earth)

Height: 6'2
Weight: 230lbs

Appearance

Forcebreaker

[/URL] A man of smouldering stare and self-reliant disposition. Forcebreaker was born an outcast, taught himself to use the inexplicable MagInks he was branded with, and has learned to trust himself before anyone else. His body is a war machine sculpted from stone and burning with a power unknown to anyone but the Pillar and Beacon in his homeland.

Armor/Clothing: His only armor is the large shield in the pic, but his clothing consists of the above cloak, kilt, and boots.

Personality: Extremely independent and wary of everyone. Breaker has been alone most of his life, fighting Darklights, trading with outlying towns, and generally avoiding both the Lightbringers and Aurora Guard. While not unapproachable it takes a special type of crazy to stand the Forsaken's presence for long.

Phobias/Fears

Forcebreaker only has two fears.

Becoming a Darklight: A fear shared by all Inkkin, if he burns up his essence his MagInk goes dark and he becomes the mindless monster he spent most of his life fighting.

Never knowing: A fear singular to F.B., from birth he has had the unknown MagInk of Force branded to his body. And he fears he'll never know how it happened, why it happened, or what it means.

Goals/Desires: Find out about his unique MagInk and learn about his origins. This is what brought him up from Nyx and to his position as assistant to the Elders of the Order.

Skills

Peak Physicality: Like all Inkkin, Breaker is at the peak of human prowess,he has the strength, endurance, speed, agility and durability of the very best human athletes.

Enhanced senses: Breaker's eyes are as keen as a cat's and able to see in total darkness as well his other senses are near superhuman as well.

Sword and shield: Forcebreaker is master of the sword and shield.

Fighter: He is a very capable and powerful fistfighter.

Survivor: Breaker is born survivor complete with the skills needed to keep himself and others alive in many environments.

Powers/Abilities

Force MagInk: A unique and largely unknown MagInk. It doesn't belong to either school of Creation or Elemental. F.B. can summon up what he can only call his Essence in a very punishing physical form. He can use this MagInk to Crush, Push, Pull, or Rip.

Crush: Summoning his MagInk, Breaker can throw out an immense power that if focused is maintained can crush foes or objects. A foe stronger than his MagInk can resist the attack, but will be immobile until his focus is broken.

Push: Possibly a weaker version of Crush, F.B. can blast out his MagInk and throw enemies or objects away from himself and others. Heavier foes or objects won't go as far.

Pull: The opposite of Push, Pull can yank people or objects in and dispatch them in other ways. But like Push heavier foes or things won't go very far.

Rip: A very powerful, but also very draining ability. Rip combines the effects and Push and Pull and can physically tear people or things apart. This requires steady concentration and can still be resisted if the target is strong enough.

Life Energy Sensor: Due to the nature of his MagInk, Breaker can sense life force and energies. Though he has not trained this ability as much as he has the offensive aspects.


Weapon(s): His MagInk aside Forcebreaker's primary weapon is the rune embedded sword in his picture. It makes the sword both very sharp and very durable.

Brief History:

Forcebreaker's life is a constant painful memory. His earliest memories are of him in short pants and staring into the dark abyss of a cave with his entire body glowing and racked with pain. Next he assumed his eyes closed and he awoke an unknown time later, this time he was facing the gentle glow of Blue Night(Nyx equivalent of daytime). His body still glowed, but the pain was a more easily ignored all body aching.

The next few years of the young boy's life was a endless example of learn quick or die. He had no adults to guide him. No Lightbringers to teach him about his MagInk nor any Aurora Guard to teach him out to fight and survive. He did it all on his own and he thrived, adversity is the greatest teacher he soon learned. With each day he grew to understand his Ink's power even if it's origins and purpose were phantoms to his young mind.

Growing his body and mind he chose the name Forcebreaker and took to the life of an unofficial wandering Dark Watcher. He hunted Darklights, he hunted treasure, and he hunted the Glowbeasts. But as the years grew long and his name was becoming legend he began thinking more on his origins and the origins of his unique MagInk which despite his questions to friendly Lightbringers or what texts he could scrounge up said was without precedence. This drive is what brought him to the surface and to the Elder Order, he showed them his skill and they promised him answers as soon as they could find them. Until then though he would serve as Assistant and occasional Bodyguard to many of the Elders. Now with the threat of the Seals being broken looming on the horizon he is tasked with seeking out the Archites and aiding them as he has aided the Elders many times in the past.

Redwing the Fallen

True Name: Stricken from all holy records
Chosen Name: Redwing the Fallen

Age: Ageless
Gender: male

Appearance(pic and description)

Redwing

7 feet tall, 260 pounds of warrior muscle, with a 9 foot wingspan. Dressed in armor above with continuously bloody wings. His hair is straight, blond, and reaches past his neckline. His eyes were once blue and full of clarity and purpose, but now they are as red as the angry dusk.

Race: The Fallen Angel of Justice

Job: Former Avenger

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Angelic Might: Even a fallen angel retains their physical power.

Wings: Redwing has wings still, and as such he can still fly with great speed and skill.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Fallen Warrior: Despite losing the favor of the Lord, Redwing is still a world class warrior and masterful in many disciplines.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Cold Justice: His only weapon is the fiery blade of justice in the pic albeit it's fire has been extinguished it is still an otherworldly powerful sword.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor)

The Armor of the Fallen: The armor in the pic, it has lost it's power against many evils. But it can still ward off many attack both mundane and magic.


Personality: Though formally a being of pure intention and just personality. The anger at seeing all the injustice of the world has turned Redwing into an angry creature quelled only by eons of training and control keeping him from using all his powers and abilities to rain fire and brimstone down upon the world. He's remained a good and caring person, but much harsher and much less forgiving.

Likes: Justice, destroying evildoers, and his training.
Dislikes: Evil, demons, his fellow comrades, not fighting.

Background: As a Fallen Angel, Redwing may have less power but he has all his memories and the burning knowledge that he is the instrument of his own destruction. He allowed himself to get too close to his duty and it caused him to sin and be cast down to earth.

Ever since he's become a guarded individual that refuses to talk of his past and focuses only on the now. But without the binds of Angelhood keeping him in check he has been indulging the anger that had caused his downfall. Now he is a Semi-Divine vigilante fighting the evil of the world with just his conviction and his blade.

Other: As an angel, he was supposed to be chaste and virginal. But since he's been on Earth he has engaged in some more mortal pleasures so as to deepen his knowledge and experience with the evil of the world.

Kent Adams

Real Name: Kent Adams
Game name: Wildblood the Berserker
Age: 27
Gender: Male

Appearance(real and avatar)

Kent

Tall and athletic, Kent doesn't look like your average gamer. And while very competitive, he also hunts and works full time as a manager of his uncle's outdoors store. His blond hair is kept short and his eyes are a pleasant blue color. Normally dresses as above unless at work then he dons the polo and cargo khakis the rest of the employees wear.

Wildblood

Large and in charge. Wildblood is a prime example of the Widerbeast race of the Key Master video game. 7 foot tall and weighing a powerful 360 pounds of furious fury muscle. Scars are signs of honor among his people so each one he wears proudly. His eyes are entirely icy blue with only a pinprick of black pupils. His fur is thick enough to almost be armor itself and shaggy in appearance and is three different shades of brown.

The above is his usual attire. Furs and trophies of his hunts and battles.

Game Race: Wilderbeast
Game Job: Beast Warrior Berserker

Game Skills and Abilities(limit of 4)

Powerhouse: Built for battle Wildblood can take a hit and dish them out with weapons or his claws.

Berserker: His job as well as his class. Wildblood is a warrior who thrives on adrenaline and hitting enemies as hard and as quick as possible.

Tracker: The Wilderbeast's starting skill is their ability to track their prey over many miles.

Two-handed mastery: Be it his battle axe or a greatsword he is the master of two-handed weapons.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 3)

Cool-headed: Despite playing a berserking warrior, Kent himself is very level headed.

Hunter: A sport he learned to love from his Uncle. The young man is an avid hunter, being able to track game and shoot it cleanly at 100 yards.

Competitive: Never being a fan of losing, he dedicates himself to coming out on top whenever he does something.

Game Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Battleaxe: The weapon in the image, his primary tool. A well made weapon he calls Ice Cleaver.

War sword: The other weapon in the image, while only used in close quarters it is still a well made weapons.

Claws and Teeth: The Wilderbeasts starter "weapons" most ignore them as they level up, but Kent put time and skill points into them so they can be very handy back-up weapons.

Game Armor(one sensible suit of armor): The armor in the image. Made of thick hides, with bits of metal and bone. It's a very pieced together suit of armor that he built from winning various difficult quests and challenges in the Key Master game.

Game Equipment: Around 10,000 gold coins, various health potions and food, weapons maintenance tools, and a cloak that grants him added armor and elemental resistance.

Personality: Kent is overall an easy going guy. Nothing much gets him riled, but he has a laser focus about him when he wants to use it. He never abandons a task until it's finished and he puts his full heart into whatever he decides to do. In fact failing seems to be the only thing that truly bothers him, but he has been working on fixing that for the past few years.

But when playing Wildblood he lets the small annoyances in his life bubble up to 11 and unleash them. Though impossible to stay mad all the time he can flip the switch easily.

Likes: Earning money, energy drinks, pizza, working at his uncle's store, women and hunting.

Dislikes: Losing, being wet outside of a shower, pool, or beach, veggie food, rap music.

Background: Kent, like most young men living in America has lived a good life more or less. His family was upper middle class. His father, Martin was a computer programmer and his mother, Ashley was an RN, they both worked long hours multiple times a week. As such Kent was often left in the care of his father's younger brother Hal who lived a few houses down from the Adam's.

Growing up Hal was Kent's hero and idle. A hunter, businessman, and hobbyist gamer. He never joined competitions like his nephew would go on to do, but he was instrumental in Kent's love of video games. It was actually Uncle Hal who bought him his copy of Key Master's prequel game "The Queststone" for his eleventh birthday. He played whenever he could quickly becoming the best among his group of friends. And by the time Key Master came out he was well-versed in the game's lore and systems. He pre-ordered his copy when he was seventeen and dove right back into the world he loved. Already having a well-developed competitive streak he tore through the local rankings and quickly began working his way up the national and international rankings until he was in the top ten of the entire world. And when the Key Master, next gen competition came up he, along the others were given invitations to California to compete for the chance to be one of the first people to play Key Master in the next-gen VR experimental test. He had scoped out his competition and the only one who posed a threat to him and Wildblood was a girl named Cass, she played the wild card zombie race in the game. They were tough to beat, but not impossible. After a week solid of competition only he and Cass remained.

Other: Kent took part in a competition based around the Key Master game. He was one of the two winners chosen and was granted access to the next level of gaming tech--an experimental VR system which malfunctioned and trapped him in the game. The only way out is to defeat the final level, which requires a key to open it.

Zurk

Name: Zurk

Gender: Male

Age: 31

Profession: Hunter and Survivor

Languages: Only knows a Primitive language that relies more on reading body language and subtle sounds like grunts or whistles, but being such a primitive language means it works great to bridge communication gaps.

Sexual Preference: Dom in all forms of sexual encounters, but prefers women.

Appearance: (picture is fine but please add a written description)

Zurk

The last of an ancient tribe of giant humans, Zurk is 7'5 and weighs a mighty 500 pounds of thick long muscles. His skin is unclean and often covered in tribal pant and general dirt, but bits of deeply tanned manflesh does show through the paint and muck from time to time.

Like the rest of him Zurk's hair is dark and matted likely never having seen any form of combing or hard scrubbing in decades. Dependent on the weather he's either dressed as above or wearing armor made of Dino and Megafauna fur that can resist the stone and bone tools and weapons of his enemies as well as the teeth and claws of the animals in his lands. And with dark brown eyes he watches the world around him always watching and waiting.

Gear: While most everything he needs he can easily gather from the world around him he does carry the large stone axe in the image with him everywhere using it as a walking stick as much as a weapon and tool. He also carries a long length of leather and a pouch of stones he uses to mostly hunt with. He also carries spare water skins and some fire making tools just in case.

Aside from his walking axe there is only one other thing he always has with him. Is Redscale his mobile home, mount, and truest friend.

Backstory: Born years ago to the last two members of the Mountain Tribe after a long and bloody war with the Plains Tribe that had been encroaching on the foothills around Gray Peak. Both sides were devastated, but the Mountain Tribe was the only one wiped out as they were unable to breed quick enough to keep up with the low land tribe. His parents fled with their newborn son into lands not even the Low Landers would try to enter.

The Valleys of the Thunder Lizards. Great terrible monsters with teeth, scales, and claws most of them are peaceful enough plant eaters. But others were ferocious hunters that had almost taken the life of the young family their first day in the Valleys. And if it weren't for his father's sheer size and strength they would not have survived. You see, Zurk's father was large even in the tribe of giants nearly ten feet tall he could snap the neck of the smaller dinos with his bare hands and square up with the bigger ones as long as he was armed. They soon carved out a life for themselves in a Valley filled almost exclusively with Plant Eaters. Hunting, foraging, even trying their hands at growing their own food it was a fine life for the last of the Mountain Tribe, but by the time Zurk would be entering adolescence the Plains Tribe had finally found them and dedicated themselves to wiping out the last remnants of their ancient enemies.

Just like on the mountain they began encroaching on the Great Valley having spent the last decade rebuilding their numbers and weaponry. But this time Zurk's family had an edge not even the enemy tribe could match. In the years since they had settled the Great Valley the intuitive giants had domesticated a family of the three horned Thunder Lizards and turned them into mobile homes, farming tools, and in this case war mounts. The six of them mowed down waves of the Plain Tribe who were still using stone tools and no armor, this war was over in the span of two weeks. But it was still not without costs, both of Zurk's parents were killed in the fighting, but this time he didn't have to run away to survive. He killed the Chief of the Plains Tribe and those few that were left fled the Great Valley and haven't been seen ever since. But with only himself and Redscale left alive there was noting keeping them in the Great Valley anymore so for a change Zurk decided to go hunt down the rest of the Plain's People instead of them doing the hunting. At sixteen sun cycles of age he left the only home he'd known never to turn back.

The couple of decades he was true to his word of hunting down the Low landers that had wiped out his tribe. The men and boys he destroyed without mercy, the girls and women that didn't try to fight him were left alive for his pleasure until he grew bored and traded them to other tribes he had come across as he traveled though the wild and varied lands outside his Valley. Most were half naked savages like himself, but others wore strange clothes and carried strange tools, but like all the others tribes they were always happy and eager to trade for the wild and sensual Plains women he had with him. A generally fit and husky skinned people, the exotic beauty of the conquered tribeswomen always fetched good trades. Many shiny baubles or containers of harsh tasting liquid that made his head swim joined the loot he would carry with him upon Redscale's back. Now at thirty-one sun cycles Zurk is on the hunt for the last member of the Plains people ready and eager to end this war once for all. What he plans to do afterwards though he hasn't thought about, maybe this last member would another attractive woman and he would keep this one to be first wife and begin rebuilding the mountain tribe with her. But first he would need to survive that long and with much more strange weather happening around him Nature might decide his revenge will never be fulfilled.

Chronos Calabar

Name: Calabar
Age: 5,500
Gender:Male

Appearance(pic and description):

Calabar

He's 7 foot even and weighs 350 pounds.  Off duty he wears long dark robes similar to samurai kimonos minus the sandals.

Race: Gargoyle
Rank: Chronos

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Enhance Physical prowess: Calabar is as strong and fast as a full grown male Kodiak Bear and has a prehensile strong tail.

Flight: His wings provide him with the ability to fly up to speeds equal to a Peregrine Falcon.

Keen senses: Calabar has very keen eyes, ears, and nose.

Claws: He has strong tiger like claws.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Many lifetimes of experience: Calabar has been around since before the Romans, he has been for over five millennia. He knows much, has seen it all, and done everything that could be done.

Marksmen: While guns are fairly new to him, he has exceptional skill at using shotguns which he prefers to rifles.

Fighter: Master of the fighting styles of Judo, Karate, American Boxing and Kickboxing.

Intelligence: Calabar is an intelligent and tactful leader. While not a genius he's no dummy.

Time Magic Mastery: Being the Chronos gives Calabar the most highly developed mastery of Chronomancy.

Non-Rank Weapons(Limit of 2):

Automatic shotgun

Tactical Tomahawk

Other Gear/ personal effects: Calabar is a minimalist, his personal effects and clothing are simple and more practical over ornate. Most of his clothing looks like he stole it from a samurai. And his personal effects are limited to a book of his clan's lineage, and a collections of his primary weapons through his long life. Stone Axes from his life as a guardian to Melekor the Wizard, a Roman Gladius, Japanese Katana, German Messer Longsword the list goes on.

Personality: Honorable and cryptic, Calabar is the living embodiment of  the Binding  Oath. The Time Blades are his whole life and he's dedicated  more than  half of it to them. He's a hard-ass when it comes to obeying  the rules  but when off duty he can be relaxed.

Background

Born many years ago, the first half of Calabar's life was spent as  all  gargoyles spend them guarding the battlements of ancient keeps owned  by  Kings and Wizards protecting by night sleeping by day. It was a simple but empowering existence, he loved being able to fight alongside those in his clan and defending their surprisingly kind master.

The man was an ageless wizard and ruled over those in his  land with a just and benevolent hand, which was unheard of in those mystic times especially for a Storm Wizard. The Wizard's power was mighty and he was known across many shores, but even with or maybe because of these legends his clan has fought off many invaders. Tribals, Sea Raiders, greedy Barons, even another Wizard looking to take over Melekor's lands.

One day on a fine morning though something was wrong, it was dawn but his clan wasn't turning to stone as they usually did, this wasn't right. The Wizard arrived on their battlements in his full Rune infused Battle Mage armor. No words were needed, the Wizard had broken their nightly cycle because he needed the Gargoyles' help in the light of day. And the reason was soon found out, on the dawn-lit horizon an army of thousands marched into view led by a wizard in black robes. He was at the head of an army of undead rotting corpses armed with brutal primitive weapons.
The Storm Wizard only had a couple hundred Men-at-arms, a few thousand Militia Peasants, and a group of two hundred Gargoyles, not exactly a thundering army. But they would fight to the last of them. And they did, for days they fought the invaders not losing ground but not gaining any. The last day though it all changed, never once losing his cool the Necromancer watched the last of his own defenders fall alongside Melekor's people. The gargoyles still lived though and it looked as though they would win the battle, but with a wave of his hand the Black Wizard cast one last spell and rose his own warriors from the dead as well as the Gray Wizard's.

Then the numbers were too uneven and the Gargoyles began dying under the sheer number of those fighting them. By the 11th hour of the last day, only Calabar and Melekor were left, holed up in the Wizard's throne room they healed what wounds they could and waited for the end. Calabar was still young and the wizard didn't wish to see another one so young die. Just as the undead horde broke the door down Melekor sent he wounded Gargoyle away with a quick teleportation spell. The Gargoyle found himself miles away from Melekor's Keep and unable to get back in time to save the Wizard. With nothing else to do Calabar wandered the land, somehow the wizard's spell still in effect. He slept like a normal creature did when he was tired. Joining whatever battle came his way Calabar fought on the dark side of every major battle right up to the time of the Romans where the next big event of his life happened.

Unbeknownst to the warrior he was about the save the life of the Chronos of the Time Blades. He was at the head of the column of fellow Legionnaires facing down some Werewolves. It promised to be a bloody battle, but the soldiers would win against the Barbarians. Their blades clashed and sparks flew from the contact, there were no words, no battle cries. Just snarls and gnashing teeth, it was bloody and wild, Calabar had long ago lost his fear of death, Gargoyles were long lived to begin with and he's been a warrior for longer than most human empires have existed. Death would be a great adventure for him, it seems though it was not meant to be. As he slew his tenth Werewolf a thickly built human man went down in front of him blind-sided by a Were's claw mace. By rights the man should've been killed, but he wasn't his glistening green glass helmet was dented sure. but he was alive.

Something told him this wasn't your average human whelp, lunging forward Calabar slashed the Were's head cutting an ear clean off before the sharp blade bit into the beast's skull felling it. With the problem dealt with he went to the man's side and saw a small green scythe pendent under a bit of pierced armor. Seeing the confusion the man simply smiled and rolled to his feet.

He spoke in a deep accented voice that placed him somewhere in the mountains of Briton.
"Survive this lad, an' Ah'll answer all yer questions." With that he drew the long claymore from his back and dove back into the Werewolves. Calabar promised and survived the attack seeking the man out and received a green glass and iron dagger as his explanation before with a strange kind of magic they were both transported deep into a mountain filled with green armored warriors, green glass weapons, and the greatest secret in existence. The Time Blades. Calabar joined without hesitation seeing a chance to get back to his roots as a protector. The centuries rolled on and soon the young Gargoyle became the hardened master of the elite group, being personally chosen to be Chronos Enslyer's protegee.

Other

Walking the sleek winding corridors of HQ, Calabar tried to remember the name of every face he saw step aside respectively or full on run down another hallway to avoid the ancient Gargoyle's fierce visage. He couldn't help but look fierce, he was a creature born to ward off evil and scary scare evil it seems. He only remembered a fraction of this names. So many new faces, so many familiar ones having left this plane of existence. Death wasn't uncommon in the Time Blade ranks, they fought evil on every battlefield and in every time in existence. It took a lot to bring a Blade down, but when it did a ripple went through the stream of time and through the hearts of nearly every soldier here. They were a small group by comparisons to other armies and that closeness grew with every century they outlived those they once knew and loved.

It was cruel at times, they were the protectors of Time and Space, but they couldn't ever see their families or friends again once they join the group. A duty of the utmost importance, but a life of profound loneliness. They only have each other for the rest of their ageless lives, friendship and love was allowed in fact it was encouraged. Children born from such unions were raised and given the choice to stay on as a Follower or leave the Base once they reached adulthood. Then their minds would be wiped clean of the group and they would be sent to live on the surface. Raised by whatever race they sprang from and left ignorant of their origins. It softened the isolationism some, but nothing like a true blood family would.
It couldn't be helped though, so was their way of life, most are given the choice upon being recruited to join or reject the proposal. If they refuse their minds are wiped or all interaction with their recruiter and sent back to their short lives.

Shaking these depressing thoughts from his mind the Chronos made his way to the firing range unslinging his combat shotgun he nodded to the Seeker on Range Safety Duty and loaded the prepared drum of ammo into his impressive weapon. Pushing his green safety glasses up his nose and patting the red earmuffs down he pushed the little blue button sounding an alarm that his lane was hot. Taking a few quick breaths he eyed down the sights and waited for his first target. Being a shotgun, the range wasn't impressively long just 75 yards. But the damage and accuracy Calabar was capable of with this weapon made that something of a moot point. His first target at 25 Left was obliterated before it even came fully up over the bunker, it was followed almost immediately by the 25 Right which to was blasted apart.

Next came up the 75 Center which followed a similar fate only it's torso was peppered with the lethal pellets. His next two victims was the 50 Left and Center he felled them both with one shot. 25 Right and 75 Left followed suit, he popped them both and continued this display until his whole 100 round drum was empty and his gun was smoking slightly. He'd done this before and just as his last round was fired a target jumped up at 2 yards and he hurled the tomahawk on his belt planting it firmly in the head of the target. Removing the ear muffs the old Gargoyle was greet with cheers and applause by the small audience he had gathered. With a smile he pulled the drum out and placed it on his booth's counter before bowing to them all.
"Thank you all, glad to know my eyes and reflexes haven't dimmed any."

Esan a Mharbhas Feannagan

NAMES: Esan a Mharbhas Feannagan “He who kills crows”





RACE: Golem/Construct
AGE: Never bothered to count.

GENDER: Male voice.
OCCUPATION: Scavenger

REASON FOR SEEKING: Feannagan’s sole reason for existing is to scavenge, collect, and bring powerful magical artifacts to the lair of the dead wizard who made him this heart will just be another treasure to fill the empty castle with.

PERSONALITY: As a Construct, Feannagan’s personality is...simple. He was not created with a strict set of principles or protocols of conduct. Nor does he have much in the way of fears or ambitions. He exists to hunt and collect, he has a deep knowledge of lore and magical artifacts so as to be able to appraise something and deem it worthy of collecting. He views non constructs as amusing, but has a sense for thieves and liars.

HISTORY: Esan a Mharbhas Feannagan has existed the same way for as long as he can remember. Roaming the land, finding treasure and bringing it back to Haxkin the wizard. Once it leaves his hand he cares little for what the object is used for. He could be many Eons old or he could only be a handful of centuries. Time means little when you have no need for sleep, food, or drink. Every sunrise blurs into every sunset, every season is the same just wetter or colder than the last.

Haxkin died many winters ago and his bones have bleached and turned to dust, but still Feannagan continues his task of collecting artifacts and bringing them to the man’s former throne room. He’s gained a sentience in his life, but could never think of anything better to do.

RP Example

“Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
They strung up a man
They say who murdered three
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree.”

A deep unnatural sounding male voice sounded through the pitch black night. The soft creaking of wood followed in cadence with each word.

“Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where dead man called out
For his love to flee
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree.”

Grass and rocky earth crunched under a heavy foot as a gangly shadow nearly 9 feet tall lumbered slowly through the swaying field.

“Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run
So we'd both be free
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree.”

The shadow crested a small hill. It’s joints creaked in protest as it stopped and stood to its full height. The balefire green glows about it’s eyes and mouth illuminating an unwavering smile and lifeless eyes as it’s head moves slowly, scanning the horizon. The creatures soon caught sight of a campfire glowing merrily in the distance. Somehow it’s grin grew wider and it aimed it’s lumbering form towards the fire moving at the same unhurried pace. It’s four arms swaying casually as it approaches.

“Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Wear a necklace of rope
Side by side with me
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree.”

The campfire grew closer and soon three figures could be seen huddled around it. A rag-tag group of adventurers carrying some artifacts of great value. The giant scarecrow moved cleverly behind their lines of sight.

“Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run
So we'd both be free
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree.”

The figures around the fire picked their heads up as they heared the creature’s voice for the first time, turning they saw the monstrosity already in their midst. In its hands a long balck chain glinted in the firelight. But soon the weapon erupted in balefire the same mysterious green as the creature’s eyes.

“Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man
They say who murdered three
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree.”

The fiery hook and chain lashed out devastating the first figure like a cannonball to the chest. The creature’s haunting voice continued to sing as it swung the chain wide taking the legs out from under the second figure before the construct stomped upon their head splattering it across the ground and into the fire.

As the third figure turned tail and ran the creature yanked it’s chain back and began spinning it like a lasso finishing up its song before it flung the hook out taking the runner’s head off at the shoulders.

“Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where dead man called out
For his love to flee
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree.”

As all three bodies erupted in emerald flames the creature picked up the adventurers' discarded packs and slung them over it’s own shoulders walking back into the night as the balefire spread  turning each body to ash.

IN USE

Shax Law

Name:Shax Law
Age: 22
Description:

Shax

, but with blond hair and dressed in torn black jeans, combat boots, leather jacket and a plain dark blue shirt.

Personality: Shax was born a few centuries too late and a few miles to far east. He's a man of the wild always has been and his parents were there for him at all times. He's friendly and courteous and above all cautious .

Occupation:Survival Coach

History: Born in a State Park to a former Army Ranger father and Navy MP mother. The outdoors were his whole life he took his first steps through a clear running creek. His first skinned knee was from jumping down a rocky hillside. His father says Shax has pine sap and mud running in his veins rather than blood.

Equipment: Shax carries a dagger around, strapped to his ankle a multi-tool, and fire-starter kit necklace.

Other:N/A

Xerses Green

Name: Xerxes Green
Alias(es): Haoma
Role: Combat Medic/Techie

Age: 26
Sex: Male
Height: 5'8
Hair: Long and black with premature flecks of gray throughout
Eyes: Silver, but unfocused. He's seen more in his eight years with Trauma Team than many Solos have their entire career.

Brief: Xerxes was born the oldest of six kids in the former European conglomerate of Benelux. The sorta capital of the EEC, the Netherlands specifically. But as the country was destroyed by coastal flooding he and his family fled to NUSA, two of his siblings died on the way over as did his mother. His remaining family was in rough shape when they finally made it to shore, they were promised medical aid...but only if they could afford. Sadly being ennieless refugees from a country that no longer existed it was a foregone conclusion they wouldn't get it. His youngest sister went first followed by his next oldest brother, Leaving just himself, his father Matthias, and his youngest brother Tomas left. Matthias was an EMT back in the EEC, he couldn't save the rest of his family but he would be damned if his two remaining sons would follow them.

He worked himself to the bone keeping the boys alive and signed on with some Nomads calling themselves the Pine Runners as they traveled around the midewest area. While never an official part of the group they reaped some benefits from tagging along with the enigmatic techies. Health, education, and for Xerxes a path to walk down. Like his father he was an EMT, but was also fascinated by technology. Weapons in particular, to him a proper healer should be able to not only bring his patient back from the brink of death. But ensure whoever put them there would never be able to do it again. A healer should be a warrior and protector. It was this desire that brought him to Night City and eventually joining up with Trauma Team. Despite the greed that ran and controlled the group he could still do some good with them. His father joined his mother and siblings a few years before he joined at eighteen and Tomas joined the military becoming a Medic on foreign soils. Xerxes was alone at the tender age of nineteen, but he wouldn't stay that way very long. He found love in the arms of a street kid from Heywood named Calida and had a son with her. Tragedy never seems far behind the man though, Calida was gravely injured in some idiotic gang turf war between the Valentinos and 6th Street. Even with his place on Trauma Team she died before help arrived, he was forced to desperate measures relying back on the skills he learned with the Runners. They taught him to have an eye for cyberware, knowing it's value by just the sound of it in some cases. It helped keep him and little Mikael afloat, but as is the story of Xerxes's life the good times would never last. He was caught doing his side gig just before his twenty fifth birthday, he likely would've been shot on sight had it not been for the friends he made among the higher ups. They took away his pension and benefits, but let him live with what was left in his bank account and his specialized cyberware. It didn't last long, but it helped cushion the blow before he had to turned to being a merc and medic for hire.

Dream: Be free of always looking over his shoulder for the next batch of bad luck to find him.
Duty: His only duty is to his son, the boy is only four years old and it's just not safe to travel NUSA with such a youngling.

Fracture: The shit he's seen from youth and his stint with Trauma Team has deadened the man to pretty much everything but his son. Plagued by episodes of PTSD and listlessness, he is very a dead pan indivudual with no form of bedside manner.
Fear: Losing his son.

Cyberware: Being a member of Trauma Team has given Xerxes a highly specialized series of augs that helped him as both security specialist and Lead EMT. They make him quite durable, but give little in quick offensive capabilities as most of them require him to change hands.

Arms/Hands

Quick-Change Mounts: Both his right and left arm have hands that he can switch out at will for a variety of hands. Each hand comes with it's own smart link system.

~Hammer Hand(right): This hand is made of hardened titanium and has a powerful explosive shell driven ram that acts like a jackhammer. He punches, the shell goes off driving his fist forward with incredible velocity and power.

~Buzz Hand(left): This hand can be pulled back to reveal small, spinning mono wires around a titanium hub. The high speed "weed wacker" shears through most materials like butter.

~Tool Hand(right): This hand's four fingers conceal small microtools: 1) screwdriver with changeable heads, 2) adjustable wrench, 3) battery-powered soldiering iron, 4) adjustable socket wrench. The lower edge of the palm is hardened to make a dandy hammer.

~Modular Hand(left): This unit contains: 1) Drug injector, 2) 1-meter garotte line extending out of fingertip, 3) 1-inch monomolecular blade for cutting, 4) Picklock. In addition, there is a 2"x2" Palm Storage Space.


Body

Grafted Muscle: After his first major accident with TT. Part of his recovery required getting grafted muscles across his entire torso and arms as well as his lower body. They functions identically to natural muscle. They enhance both appearance and strength, he is about three times as strong and durable as he looks. Good for holding down a patient going through Cyberpsychosis.

Enhanced Antibodies: These are bio-engineered (fully organic) anti-bodies, designed to be more efficient than natural anti-bodies. They will cut healing time in half (for damage related to disease), and boost resistance to diseases.

Toxin Binders: These are nanites designed to bind with particles of various poisons in the body. They will not make you immune to poison and toxins, but they will make you highly resistant to them.

Bionic Lungs:  Needed to keep up with the added weight and stamina he requires.

Nanosurgeons: These are nanites specifically designed to repair damage at the cellular level.  Unlike enhanced Antibodies, nanosurgeons repair physical damage to the body. They are not meant to mitigate disease or poison.


Head

Chemical Analyzer: A modification to his nasal passages analyses smells and breaks them down to their chemical components.

Kiroshi Optics Mk 3.5: Slightly modified to work like a field x-ray device to scan for injuries and has a recording feature that is save to a microcassette implanted in his skull.

Reflex Boosters: These are specialized TRC co-processors that amplify and speed up signal processing. Not quite a sandy but still very handy in a hariy situation.


Skin

Supra-Dermal Weave: Prevents bleeding

Subdermal Armor: Covering him from head to toe.


Skeleton

Titanium Bones: Needed to support his continued durability.

Synaptic Signal Optimizer: Needed to keep everything going steady and playing nice.

Bionic Joints: Allows his joints to withstand the strain of keeping up with a battle and heal those who need it.

Brom O'Bannon

Name: Brom O' Bannon
Alias(es): Pinocchio(to Gep only) Diesel(to everyone else)
Role: Driver/Techie

Age: 22
Sex: male
Height: 6'7
Hair: Short and brown
Eyes: Racer Green

Brief: Born fast, live fast, die fast. These words have steered the entirety of Brom's life, his parents were middle class blue collar workers. His father a mechanic and his mother a techie, but one passion they shared was racing. His father built the cars, his mother supped them up, and together they were one of the top street racing duos in Night City.

They passed this skillset and love for speed onto Brom. He liked to brag about being conceived during a high speed police chase on a motorcycle. His father driving and his mother riding backwards in his lap shooting at the fuzz as they came screeching down the highway.

A massive lie of course, but what's life without a little bit of embellishment? Still he was raised around cars and racing, getting a job at his father's shop, before breaking onto the racing scene at age sixteen. From then on it's been nothing but fast living, fast loving...and fast debt building. He won most of his races, but within the first few years the cars he needed went beyond what his parents could build while still keep their normal clients. He had to go out for sponsors, which led him directly into the well armed arms of the Lazarus Group. A surprisingly benign and empathetic corporation despite having Militech as it's closest ally and being able to square up with the likes of Arasaka. But a corporation they still were, his reckless attitude and hard partying lifestyle led him to destroying many of the high end cars they provided him. They care too much about their positive rep to have him killed, but they would get their money back out of him one way or another. Even if that means passing the debt onto his parents and their families, selfishness always bites you in the ass and it's been chewing on his fine sculpted ass cheeks for years.

Dream: Become the living incarnation of speed and earn his place within the ranks of the greatest racers of all time.
Duty: Keep his family out of debtors prison and honestly deep down...he feels bad for wreaking all of Lazarus's fancy cars.

Fracture: His motto, he firmly believes life is a race and the only way to win it is to get to the finish line quickly and with as much smoke and fire behind you as possible. This pushes him to take more and more risks and put more and more strain on his already overstrained career.
Fear: Falling into obscurity and dying old, alone, and smelling slightly of urine.

Cyberware: Brom is speed inside a car or out of it, his augs reflect that.

Adrenaline Booster
Blood Pump
Second Heart
Syn-Lungs

Kerenzikov
Fireproof Coating

Bionic Joints
Microrotors
Synaptic Signal Optimizer

Smart Link
Projectile Launch System
Reinforced Tendons

The Recasts Group 4

Grizzwald Night

Name: Grizzwald Night

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description) 

Grizz

Average height but of stout build. Under his mask he is a young man with sun kissed skin, his eyes are two different colors one being Blue the other being Green, and his face is clean shaven so as to not mess the sealing of his mask during duststorms. He has red hair which is also kept very short, he is a heavily built man and like the picture his left arm has been replaced by a clockwork prosthetic.

The above is his usual garb when on mission, a long coat, heavy cloth pants, and leather boots. He also wears an armored leather vest, and a leather pauldron to cover the upper parts of his fake arm. Though on hot days in the desert he usually goes without the coat which reveals the gray long sleeved shirt he has on under the vest.

Job: Trucker, smuggler, and occasional armed escort.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Driver: Like anyone who wishes to live through the Zombie apocalypse, Grizzwald is a very skilled driver of most any four-wheeled land vehicles.

Marksmen: A skill anyone in the wastes needs to know. Be with black powder or modern guns Griz is highly skilled at rifle grip firearms.

Navigator: Another indispensable skill, Mr. Night is very good at using the stars and landmarks to find his way around.

Doctor: The original field he trained for before the world ended. Grizzwald is a skilled albeit down and dirty Doctor.

Jury-Rigger: When the truck breaks someone needs to fix it as such Griz has taken it upon himself to learn all he can about engines and other technical fields, though lack of tools and two working hands means most of his fixes are more band-aids than proper fixes.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons): M-16 with a dual day/night scope, a 44 magnum pistol, and a tire iron repurposed into a war axe.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): The armor in the above pic, it's a modified combat medic's suit from his time in the Army.

Equipment: Basic mechanical tools, fire making tools, the wrenches and such need to keep his arm in good repair, spare ammo and gun maintenance kit and of course never without his trusty sidekick Admiral Quackers.

Augs(Limit of 3): Clockwork Arm: As seen in the picture Grizzwald has a mechanical arm that gives him extra strength.

Personality: Grizzwald Night is what could be called an adrenaline junkie. He lives to cheat death, he is fearless, bold, and wily. But there are glints of a deeply moral soul beneath all the bravado, many would call him unhinged, others perfectly normal. Grizz would say he's somewhere in the middle. Like everyone else in the new Zombie world you don't make it to the end the day being perfectly sane. Just the right kind of crazy to willingly go out into almost certain death on a daily basis.

Likes: Women, whiskey, driving, Admiral Ducky Quackers, thunderstorms, and rainbows.

Dislikes: Marauders, the Zombies, being stationary, the sea, and parrots.

Background: Many survivors say they were born to the life of a wanderer. The sky was their first blanket and the earth their first bed. Even if only two years had passed since the world ended this was a common cliche tossed around. But for Grizzwald night it had always been true. Since he was a child he's been on the road. His parents were part of a Traveling Circus that drive between every major city in America. Putting on fantastic and unbelievable shows every day of the year. All and all it was the perfect storm for making a man like Grizzwald. Raised to fear nothing and always to dare greatness the Nights were a happy family.

But while his parents were happy with staying circus folk Grizzwald wanted more. More adventure, more danger, more everything. So when he was old enough he joined the United States Army, but he wasn't keen on killing so he became a Medic. At the time the US was going through much turmoil, riots and mud-slinging political campaigns. Eventual the US fell into a second Civil War, so Grizzwald's first taste of the pains of war were just outside his family's summer circus camp. Luckily though he scored high enough to be a Combat Medic. With his rifle and CLS bag he did his part to keep America from blowing itself up.

For fives years he served the Medic Corp proud, and luckily after those five years the war ended, but like all soldiers Grizz didn't come out of it unscathed he lost an arm and the constant fighting and patching up people to send them off to die wore heavily on his psyche, and by the time the war ended he was well on his way to a Section 8 mental health discharge. But the horrors of war never just end once the last round is fired. Leaders on both sides of the war had gone to Nazi levels of mad science to try and end the war as quickly as possible while at the same time trying to ensure their side wins. It resulted in the truest form of an end of the world scenario, no one knows which side did it first. But shortly before a tentative treaty had been signed the first Zombie outbreak occurred it quickly spread and many say this was the main reason for the end of the war. Both sides united against a common enemy, but it was for naught. The virus spread and wiped out most of the world within the first year. Those further North suffered less and would eventually inherit the world once the outbreak had run it's course losing most of it's hosts before it fully ended humanity.

But the zombies still outnumbered the humans so those strong enough took to the roads to keep ahead of the hordes. Big cities were abandoned and small town became fortresses, but this is a losing war of attrition. The smart are mobile, and the survivors don't take chances. Grizzwald liked to think he was a smart guy and live on the road was something he was already used to and once he found a beautiful Volvo big rig truck he never stayed in one place very long ever again. He called her Annabelle and she became his home, his fortress, his safe space. His mental health fully unhinged now he simply lives to fight another day until the day finally takes him down.

Other: Grizzwald has had a few lady friends in the past, but nothing's stuck yet.

Salazar

Name: Salazar
Age: 45
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Appearance:

Salazar

Under his mask Salazar is a man of character and feature. Completely bald and covered from head to toe with bizarre markings of unknown origin. His skin is fair and dotted with scars from his former life.

A 6'1 fighter's build with defined muscle and taut skin, the strange tattoos continue across his body in a random patterns and it is said if one stares at him long enough they'll be hypnotized...or get smacked with a frying pan for being a peeping tom. While his entire body is remarkable his eyes are quite mundane by comparison. A simple deep brown that darts from side-to-side as if expecting trouble at all times. On mission he dresses as above, a long many belted trenchcoat with metal studs poking up across his shoulders and arms. He wears black combat gloves with magic channeling material under the sturdy layer of leather. Like the rest of his outfit his utility belt is also black leather and the pouches are filled with mission sensitive gear. He wears black camo fatigues and classy pointed shoes with non-rubber soles.

Personality

Salazar's personality is the product of years of normal military training, Spec ops training, and most recently extreme torture methods by the Agency who needed the maddest and most effective tool to bring down Monsters and Gifted humans gone rogue.

The man is an unhinged mess and can actually be split into three different personalities which ironically coincide with each phase of his life. The Soldier, the Agent, and the Manic. Sometimes the changes are subtle; other times it's like throwing an M-80 into a room of sleeping Elephants.

The Soldier: Thankfully this is Sal's most frequent and amicable personality. He's your typical soldier, hard-working, reliable, lusty, and safe to be around. He laughs, he jokes, he plays grab ass. The type of guy you can get drunk with one day and rely on to watch your back in a hot LZ the next.

The Agent: This is one of the personalities Sal falls into when he's in danger or going on a dangerous mission. Gone is the jolly soldier boy only the grim faced Merc who's seen too much and done too many dark deeds to allow joy to enter his life remains. He's all business and is quick to crack down on anyone fucking off when lives are on the line. He pulls the trigger and never ask questions.

The Manic: An extremely dangerous state of mind for Salazar and anyone around him. This is the personality that has built up his killcount and earned him the most trouble. He loves to kill and laughs when he does so. When this mask is on it's better to just point him at an enemy and go the opposite direction. He kills and destroys until the bloodlust passes.

Abilities: Over twenty years of fighting for freedom and money, have given Salazar a potent repertoire of ways to kill others.

Expert Marksmen: Able to shoot the eye of a Harpy at two-hundred yards, Sal's skilled with pistols, shotguns and rifles. But only goes as high as Semi-auto he's never been a fan of automatic weapons.

Sword-fighter: Enjoying the elegance and reputation attached to swords. Salazar is a skilled blade fighter able to wield big swords or dual-wield smaller ones if it's pointy and stabby he can use it.

Combat Medic: When he just doesn't have the time to use his healing powers Sal is proficient as a Field Medic and often carries the groups Med supplies on him.

Survivor's mindset: When you have lived the life Sal has you develop the mindset of a true survivor. Unafraid of death, willing to do anything to see tomorrow, and able to face down the most vile of people and creatures and crack a number of witty one-liners.

Brawler: Though not a favored skill, Sal can take a beating and throw-down with a combination of Pankration and panic fists.

Tricky: Due to his training and unstable mind Salazar can be a very unpredictable man in a close fight and has been known to use the land to his advantage.



Standard Loadout: Salazar's loadout is very mission dependent and to an extent dependent on his mind at the time. But no matter what is going on he always has fire making tools, holy objects of power, and information on a magically resistant PDA to tap into.

The Soldier favors guns over melee and he carries two .45 caliber pistols and a bolt-action Remington rifle all able to take normal rounds or special silver rounds.

The Agent favors melee over ranged and he carries two katanas, a tactical tomahawk, and an extending metal staff.

The Manic has no weapon preference and has been known to use anything he can get his hands on to kill and destroy from broken pipes to a crane he once used to drop a shipping crate on the target.


Weaknesses: Unpredictable, split personalities, and he gets bloodthirsty when killing things.

Backstory

 

For most of his life Salazar was named Riley and lived a good life. His family was upper-middle class and he was a star in school. He joined the Army at seventeen with hopes of earning a few bucks and getting his degree in Graphic Design. He signed the papers with a smile and expected his life to be filled blazing glory. In short...it wasn't, the training was far more difficult than he expected and his unit was full of assholes.
As the reality of life in the military dawned on him he was just waiting for his contract to be up, his degree to be earned, and never look back. He got his bachelor's degree a month before his stint was to be up, but work for a Graphic Designer was impossible to come by so despite his parents and his better judgement saying no he re-upped for a further six years and was stuck for life. Each time his contract was coming up money troubles and lack of work would force him to pick up that pen and sign his soul away once again.

For twenty years Riley was a warrior, Fifteen in the normal rank and file and as his contract ended for the last time he had enough money to get out, but killing was all he knew so he joined a group Black Op Mercs at his first chance and ran with them for five years. Flying out on missions all over the globe and killing people he couldn't even pronounce the names of. He never asked the why of it, just did what he only knew to do, follow orders. It was his last mission with the Mercs that set him on the final chapter to be becoming Salazar. He was in the desert...again...hunting supposed terrorists again...going on very little intel...again. All and all this mission looked to be like any other, but the group wasn't in the usual terrorist dress, they were called the Order. Riley had heard about the shadowy before, but so far in his life he's never had to deal with them before.

Still he knew from experience a well placed bullet will kill anyone Gifted or no. But this group was organized like a paramilitary group. The ambushed his squad their pet Gifted blasting attacks down from the ridge line. His brothers and sisters in arms dropped like flies all around him, they all fought to the bitter end and Riley forgot how many Gifted abilities he dodged...or so he thought. As the last of his comrades died the Order soldier swooped down from the high ground to end him, but as the one solider threw a large metal spike into his chest the spike bent and bounced off his chest. As surprised as the rest of the group Riley managed to use the metal spike and his military training to kill three of his attackers before he was struck from behind.

He awoke deep in a basement somewhere. He was stripped of his shirt and tied to a chair that was bolted to the concrete floor. He was alone upon waking up, but that didn't last long soon six people in white coats walked in followed by at least eight more dressed in black clothes. No words were exchanged as the eight in black surrounded him taking combative stances around him. One of the people in lab coats snapped their fingers and the people in black began attacking him with their gifts. He felt the attacks, but didn't seem to take any damage. They carried on for hours each Gifted taking turns using every techniques and variation of their ability as possible. But nothing injured the captured man, he was a Gifted with a most unique power.

For years this was his everyday. Torment, abuse, and isolation, everyday they brought in more and more Gifted to test his powers. And while he wasn't damaged his body began to change taking on strange markings and scars that seemed equal parts tattoo as healed injury. But still nothing showed up, there were whispers he was an Omega whatever that meant. This seemed to really excite the people in the Lab Coats. They brought in people called Alphas to try, and a whole new world of pain was visited upon him. Only now he was tied to a wall at the end of a big firing range like a rifle range dummy. Luckily he blacked out after the first volley, like before this carried on for awhile until his salvation arrived in a raid by another group called the Agency.

He doesn't remember much after that, just that he wasn't a target anymore. It took him a long time to recover from the mental trauma, but he did and now he's the leader of a group called the Project Hunter. Activated when shit gets out of hand and tossed into the fan, the last time they were activated was when the three Omegas Psion, Storm Breaker, and Warlock were captured. A good chunk of the group was killed, but him, Taipan, Echolash, Flash, Maho Shojo remained and like the secret little weapons they are were deactivated and sent back into the real world until the time would come where they would be needed again.

Faction: The Agency

Gift: Omega

Resilience: A purely defensive and powerful ability. Salazar can take and lessen hits from gifts, he can withstand nearly fifteen hits from Betas, ten hits from Alphas, and three hits from an Omega. It has no time limit, but once the number of hits land the force causes Salazar to black out, which leaves him open to death unless someone takes his body somewhere else. And separate effects can still happen like his clothes can be set on fire if he takes a too many fireballs, Acid powers can melt him if he stays too long in it. etc.

Rikki the Sapper

Name: Rikki
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Height: 3'2
Race: Redkin
Area of expertise

Sapper: A skill often overlooked, but with a history of turning the tides of battle. It is a skill the Redkin specialize in, gifted with a naturally clever and curious nature these furry little geniuses are skilled in using multiple weapons, crafting and creating complex traps and fortifications in record time.

Appearance:

Rikki

Rikki is a sturdy member of his usually stout race weighing a solid 30lbs with nearly all of it being tight springy muscle. His fur is well kept and is often a point of ridicule because he spends so much time keeping it clean. His eyes are a steady blue and he is usually dressed as above even when not in combat.

Personality: Rikki is a no nonsense, snout to the ground, eccentric. He rarely wastes time and is often at odds with others when there is work to be done. To him the world is always one inch from Armageddon, he's not gonna sit around on his tail and lose ground to despair. He's obsessive-compulsive, but endearing about it and unflinching in his can-do attitude.

Background: The Redkin are a people of spirit and resolve not of nation. Nomadic, and often found in camps outside of major cities offering their skills and traps to would be adventurers and hunter. The devices are well made and can set up the extra clever little beastfolk for a long time of complacency. But while such Redkin to exist the bulk of the race cannot sit still for long. Rikki and his Bustle(as families of Redkin are called) were one of these antsy majority.

By Redkin standards his Bustle was small consisting only of three generations, but each relative worked like three members of the other Bustles. Rikki is the middle child of four and early on showed a propensity for Combat Engineering. He would build traps for his younger siblings and tease them when he caught them. They rarely saw him coming, but he was also one to think himself better than your average Redkin. And for someone only two feet tall an arrogant personality was especially insufferable. But Redkin are very family oriented and the thought of sending a cub away was quite taboo. So they endured his jeers and laughs until he was twelve years old that is the day when a young Redkin must be tested by the Elders and placed within the Trades.

While many knew it was a forgone conclusion Rikki would be a Sapper he still tested high in Smithing and Fletching. His parents were proud of him, and after some wheeling and dealing it was decided Rikki would go into Sapper school, but learn the other two trades. A Redkin with more than one Trade wasn't uncommon, but one who only learned about battle was. This worried his parents because the young Kin was already dangerous on his own. Still they sent him off expecting a true monster to emerge.

As fate would have it though learning these three Trades gave Rikki the much needed discipline and focus he needed. His body was broken and reforged and his sarcastic critical mind turned towards professionalism and wit. He was apprenticed for ten years under three separate masters simultaneously. It was exhausting, but it made him the Tradesmen he is today, sadly his skills were put to the most dangerous of test when the Ruin appeared. Nothing could stop it, no number of traps nor potency of poisons, nor tremendous of fire slowed the force down. And it resulted in the normally fearless Redkin to flee before it. They are among the smallest of Races and often overlooked when the panicking masses flood through the land. More Redkin were crushed in exoduses fleeing the afflicted areas than in the fight against the Ruin. This has resulted in the agile little Beastfolk to begin keeping their own company and refusing to sell their wares to warriors who wish to fight.

Rikki and a few other youths want to bring the cooperation back and fully recognize that this Ruin can only be defeated by the coming together of all nations and he'll die to make it happen.   


Other: Since he has mostly been working on his own since he graduated Rikki often carries a small backpack filled with trap making parts, blueprints, and Redkin sized smithing tools. But for his own use he carries a compact bow with some of his best made arrows and a human sized dirk repurposed into a Redkin utility blade. Though he is a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to his weapon ability. And for ease of travel Rikki has tamed a Coyote named Decker to act as his mount.

Ingo Ryker

Name: Ingo Ryker
Age: 34
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Ingo is a Raider, the first and greatest son the Ryker tribe, death follows him across the waves catching all the fools who cross his path for glory and honor.

A proud 4'5 feet tall and weighing a hefty 115 pounds of stout Gnomish muscle. While he keeps his head shaved clean, he keeps his bright red beard proudly groomed and clean. For his people the beards are a symbol of maturity and prestige. From a lifetime outside and at sea his skin is heavily tanned and like leather to the touch. Lastly his eyes are the the burning gold of a late sunset at sea.

Usually dressed as above even when safely on the shores of his homeland.

Race: Gnome
Job: High Sea Raider

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4)

Tough: Very much like Dwarves, Gnomes are an exceedingly tough race.

Bold: Like all who live their lives as warriors of the high sea, Ingo is a fearless and fierce individual.

Balanced: You need good sea legs when you are a Raider, on the sea or off Ingo has impeccable balance.

Natural Navigation: Either born from life-long training or some kind of trait passed down from generations of doing so. Ingo has a keen sense of direction and topography that allows him to keep something of a map in his mind at all times.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Axe Fighter: His first and favorite skill, Ingo is a highly skilled and agile axe fighter being it duel-wielding, solo fighting, or even throwing. He is the best in his tribe with them.

Sailor: A skill expected of every son in the Ryker Tribe no matter his station. They are a culture born from the sea as their creation myths go so being a sailor and seafarer is something Ingo learned quickly.

Knife Fighter: While still one of his better skills, being able to fight with his daggers or throw the knives at his belt with the best in this clan. They aren't his preferred weapons, but come in handy when he loses his axes.

Raider: A combination of his first three skills, Ingo is a highly skilled and successful raider excellent at agile fighting aboard ships as well as guerilla combat on land.

Fisherman: Even high sea raiders can't raid all the time. As such Ingo has taken a keen interest in fishing. His skill as a sailor and naturally solid body allow him to land even large fish like the Savage Marlin.

Weapons: As with any Raider upon the high seas Ingo carries many weapons as he needs. But usually he carries eight weapons.

Pair of War Axes: The weapons in the pic and his primary weapons. Made of stout Danish hardwood for the hafts and fine steel for the heads.

Double Daggers: Likewise in the picture he carries a pair of sharp double-edged daggers with wrapped leather handles.

Three throwing knives: Lastly he carries three throwing knives at his belt each are made of a solid piece of fine steel and razor sharp.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): Being a raider means light armor and speed. Normally his armor consists of leather arms and shoulder protection and thick leather boots as well as heavy layered cloth for his torso and legs.

Equipment: He carries just what he needs for a long raid. Spare clothes, weapons maintenance tools, fishing tools, extra water as well as fire making tools and rope.

Personality: Bold and proud, Ingo is what the Gnomes of the Ryker Tribe aspire to. Fearless in all forms of danger and always willing to fight. Ingo is as rowdy as he is skilled, bordering on rude much of the time. But among his people such a personality is normal and actually expected of such a storied warrior and the son of the clan's Chief. But as bold and stalwart as he is his life was built around seafaring and war so his skill and experiences are limited to what would help him gain honor and trophies.

So the more scholarly pursuits in life confuse and frustrate him to no ends, he can barely read and simply refuses to learn how to write. His people tell history through tales around the mead-hall not through dusty tomes to be kept in some moldy tower.

Likes: Women, mead, war, the sea, his ship, exploring and seeking glory.

Dislikes: Idleness, losing, weakness, scholars, the heat.

Background: Clan Ryker, the greatest clan of warriors among the Gnomes of the raging north seas. Ingo was the first born son of Chief Grissmoud, his heir, his student, his greatest creation. Born for greatness and trained to be just that...great. He lived in privilege, but he also lived in war. Constantly fighting and training to be molded into the very best, but the young Gnome loved it and he grew into exactly what he was expected to grow into...a warrior among warriors.

He found his love of duel-wielding early and his weapons of choice being a pair of war axes. Even as a child he was a whirlwind of pain and death. Keeping his masters on their toes and his father proud of him, Ingo's body and skills grew with each day. Broken bones, gushing cuts, battered knuckles. He's dealt it all and had it all, no matter a warrior's skill he who learns without losing isn't learning right. Innate skill goes a long way, but training goes even further. But Ingo never had to worry about losing much, he was the best of the best. Confidence is a deadly mix when matched with great skill and constant ego boosts from those around you. As was the case with any promising warrior he found himself surrounded by the best mead, most tender meat, and most...flexible companions. And with each achievement he gained even more, and still while being considered a sprat unable to grow a proper beard. Life was good and it would only be getting better.

And so it did...the aspiring raider finished every kind of training his village and father could teach him and was brought on to be a cabin boy in his first voyage across the rough seas around Sølvtåge. One of the youngest that's even been allowed to set foot aboard a raider vessel. One more feather in the ambitious young Gnome's cap, one more thing to brag about to the boys back in the mead hall. He was looking forward to spilling his first pint of blood and claim his share of a bounty. This was going to be his Rite of Passage, he was about become a man and be allowed to grow a beard. He may even be able to find a war prize to bring home to warm his bed until he could find a proper wife, then the War Prize will become his second wife. The very idea made his heart race with excitement. As he stepped aboard the ship his gripped his axes Stolthed and Strøm and gave a small prayer to the Gods for a swift and decisive victory. 

Ingo's first raid didn't result in a wench for his bed, but he learned to love the thrill of battle and earned more than his own weight in bounty that day. The Gnome's group won a commanding victory and lost only a couple of men. That was the first notch in his axe handles, but the first of many. He began growing a broad powerful beard and he even won the hand of the finest maiden in his village shortly after he came home. Her name was Kisga and through the years she would prove to be his most loyal friend and advisor even after the new raider brought home a couple of War Prizes. Each raid increased his honor and prestige and every notch on his axe handles proved what he and his father already knew...he was the best son of his people. Many years passed and soon Ingo became a captain of his own vessel, the Halefire braving many tremendous seas and wild storms, but always coming back with a ship heavily laden with goods and treasure to present to his aging father.

He would one day be expected to take over leadership of the Ryker Tribe which meant he would have to undergo more training to learn the finer parts of negotiation and leading without bloodshed, he did not look forward to those lesson nor the chain that would force him off his ship and keep him stuck on shore for the remainder of his days, but it would be the highest and most honorable thing he could achieve in his lifetime. Until then though he would continue to enjoy the rush of battle and the feel of warm mead sloshing around his belly as he tumbles about the sheets with Kisga or one of his Prizes Ana and Elsa.

Other: While married to Kisga with whom he has five children, Ingo also has a pair of mistresses he captured in a raid that act as concubines for when his wife isn't in the mood.

IN USE

Harlowe MadSon

Name: Harlowe MadSon

Age: 31

Gender Male:

Occupation: Tracker and Sooner

Appearance:

Harlowe

Average height, boxer's build, tanned skin, short brown hair, strangely yellow eyes, and dresses as above most days.

Personality: Devil-may-care and charming. The bane of safety minded types and a killer with the ladies...assuming he doesn't annoy them so much that they try to kill him.

Skills: Tracker/ Forager, gunman, axefighter, wood carver, and wasteland survivor.

Bio: Born in the Southern parts of Ragged America's West Coast in a town without even a proper name...even by the standards of a country where towns are named after merry-go-rounds and batteries. He more fell into the business of tracking things for a living than actually looking to get into it. His father raised him after his mother died in childbirth with him. The man was rough, but not cruel, he did what he could in a town of three rusty corrugated iron houses that housed all twelve residents. "Do whatever you can to keep the walls standing" was a common phase tossed around the shacks growing up. Everything you do, you do to keep your home and family together even if that means actually holding the walls up with your bare hands until someone comes along to weld them back into place.

His dad was a tracker and he took young Harley along every time he went out into the wastes. It allowed him to teach the boy a skill and keep an eye on him so he wouldn't die or something. Harlowe picked up quickly on the skills as well as learning how to be deadly with a bow and arrow. He can use a gun if you give him one, but bullets are a commodity the poor little dirt boy couldn't afford most of the time. So the bow was his ranged weapon of choice, but for up close and personal encounters he modified some mountain climbing picks into honest to goodness war picks using them like some axe wielding wild man when the times call for it. The travels with his father took him all up and down the West Coast following paths set down by the trailblazing pair of Ezra Bastian and Jackal Lawless, though the boy and his father never braved the Lost Mountain Trail the pair were rumored to find they did learn the Trader's Tail in and out. Even after his father went to big round up in the sky Harlowe kept plying the trade he was taught. And along the way he met many people, some more memorable than others.

Yorick Quara

Name: Yorick Quara

Age: 35

Gender: Male

Occupation: Show participant, formally a quarryman

Appearance

Rick

A man either born from a pile of rocks or sculpted from them. Powerfully built from a lifetime of the kind of back breaking labor that would destroy most people. 5'8 weighing a stout 200lbs, his skin while fair is marred by many scars. Some accidental other were given to him by people who didn't know were the line was drawn.

Pale orange hair like a campfire in the early morning his single good eye a glowering amber. The one under his eye patch was lost in a quarry accident his first year on the job. While the above is the idiotic costume he's forced to where on his show he would much prefer a good pair of jeans some steel-toe boots, and a flannel shirt.

Personality: Rough and when pushed...very vengeful. He has always had a temper and slightly unhinged tendencies. But give him a job and you'll find no better worker. And for the past five years he'd played the game the Studio set to him, but his patience has reached it end. He and one of his fellow contestants need to get away.

Skills

Working Man: Powerful and durable, Yorick or Rick as he prefers to be called is extremely strong and built to take a beating born from working in the quarry since he was a teenager.

Mindset of the Mule: While some might call it a detriment even assume he's mentally challenged. But in reality this is just a near superhuman level of focus and determination. Once Rick sets his mind to something he'll finish it or die trying.

Machinist: While he much prefers working the pit outside. If he needs to he can be put into the companies factory to repair or work the many forms of heavy equipment.

Hammer Man: A nickname and a skill set. When in the Pits he's most always found with a hammer and chisel breaking slabs of stone off the walls or breaking the slabs down into more easily moved chunks. When needed he can also swing a hammer like a human wreaking ball devastating anyone or anything trying to get in his way.

Bio: Before The Show, he lived a content and simple life. No wife or kids, but he had many friends and a big family to keep him company. Rick was happiest in his routine, he would wake up, he would eat breakfast, get ready for work, go to work, come home, shower, eat, have a few beers, go to bed. The same thing everyday, and he was happy with that.

But in his world society was on the decline. People didn't work the most basic jobs and the trades were dying fast. Machines were replacing man in the hard jobs like working the quarries. And for awhile his company was holding strong, but fives years back it all went to shit and Rick was circling the drain. His company shut down and for the first time in his life he was unemployed with no prospects of getting back to the grindstone. His jealously defended routine was shattered he flopped about in the doldrums for as long as he could, but like so many of his co-workers he found his saving grace...on The Show. A national phenomenon born from the world's insatiable bloodlust for more real TV, if Rick had known what he was signing up for he would've joined the military or become a criminal instead. He's blocked out most of it, simply having to react and not think about it he did what he was told. But with the demands and requests becoming more insane he has had enough. And it seems he isn't the only one feeling it, with help from a fellow contestant and some mysterious help from the outside it's time to tear down the walls that have kept them trapped and bring the roof down upon the heads of those that caused all this suffering.

Recast Females

An-Yah

Name : An-Yah
Race: Wilderbeast-Painteno
Occupation: Hapless Huntress
Orientation:Bi-curious, though she only wants to do vaginal sex with her chosen male mate.

Ons : Sigma Males(Alpha male confidence, but no arrogance), feelings and tenderness, oral (G and R), anal, hand jobs, single partners, boobs(particularly those bigger than her own) smaller partners, kindness, non-aggressive females.
Offs : Alpha and Beta Males, taller partners, multiple partners, vaginal(this is only for her chosen mate), aggressive females. Gore, vore, bathroom stuff, being treated like a simple animal.

Favorite Mode of Attack:

Pointy Stick: Her only true weapon, the primitive spear that was given to her for her tenth birthday. While best used for hunting if she can keep herself from being afraid it has a sharp rock on the end and long reach. Though she uses it more erratically than she should. More likely to flail about with it screaming "go away!" "go away!" "GO AWAY!"

Get back I bite!: Only used when her spear is gone. She has sharp teeth and a very strong bite force, able to break bones. But it's a last resort move.


Height: 5'0
Build : The build of a born huntress, athletically curvy, but soft.
Description : An-Yah is built for endurance, lean muscular body, long slender limbs, and claws that don't retract so she can get better grip when running be it on two legs or all four. She is also covered in a very soft coat of short silky fur. It's coloring 100% unique for each Painteno, superstition says the patterns tell what kind of hunter the pup will be. But seeing as An-Yah was raised by Gnolls, who have no such beliefs...she has no clue what her pattern means. Still even living in the wild she took care in keeping her coat clean and silky. She has large expressive blue eyes and just as large and expressive ears which usually foretells her mood before anything else does. On her pert firm backside is a fluffy tail that is personally her pride and joy. Being from a tribal culture she only has the above hide clothing to wear and only one set of it.

Personality : Having been raised among Gnolls you'd think An-Yah would be like them. All gruff and confident, but no, An-Yah is very soft spoken and nervous. She's also easily scared, especially of big things, but usually she only gets scared once before she learns to face it. Still the poor puppers goes out of her way to not be confrontational. She'll fight if she has to, but her first option will always be to try and run away. And because she was kicked out of the only Clan she has ever known she is alone and looking for a male to start her own pack with or at the least someone to protect her from being eaten by some monster.

Story : An-Yah's story doesn't have a very happy beginning. Her earliest memory was crying in the arms of her adopted mother Sim-Za with a thunderstorm going on overhead. And her next earliest being attached to the Gnoll mother's lactating teat and having her first full meal along side her Gnoll brother Ba-Tou. After that though things were happy...or as happy as they could be for a strange girl living in a tribe of horny Hyena people.

Though despite all the bad things going on about her people, the Gnolls are actually very loving parents and supportive siblings. Ba-Tou watched out for the perpetually smaller little Wilderbeast. Saving her from getting run over or stolen by enemy Gnoll tribes. Worshipping of ancient dark lords is still very prevalent, but hey...what family is perfect? Her clan in particular worships a lust demon that demanded orgies every third week of a month. An-Yah was always kept out of those because size is everything among Gnolls. The biggest get the best, and she was by far the smallest so she was excluded from the wild mating rituals. On the plus side though she didn't have to worry about raising a litter of pups before she even learned how to hunt! She focused on becoming a huntress with the hope she'd get skilled enough to make up for her size and find a strong mate to put extra strong pups into her. Sadly as the years rolled on An-Yah learned there was another thing keeping her from being a desirable mate...she was quicker to run than fight. The males dislike a scared female almost as much as they don't like a small female. She was a hopeless case, but when she turned eighteen her parents begged the clan Chieftain to let An-Yah go on a person hunt with Bo-Tou and his mate Ye-Jal. It would be the first hunt for all of them, but if An-Yah could prove herself a good person hunter it would make up for her smallness and meek attitude all these years!

Sadly that didn't turn out either. A human man punched two of her teeth out then she was knocked unconscious by a pink Elf girl. And when she woke up a few hours later with only her spear, a cloak, and Bo-Tou's stone knife along with a note written crudely by her brother in the dirt. "Sorzy Sissa, we alla fail. You take knife, cape, go town. Finna new home. Luv Brotta." With no other option the scared little Painteno did just that, starting out on an adventure she never wanted, and would likely end with her being killed and eaten by something.

Nikadeama

Name: Nikadeama
Nickname: Nika
Age: 32
Gender: Female
Race: Sunfighter

Appearance Description/Photograph:

Nika

She is 5'10 and weighs 140lbs of lean muscle. When not in combat she dresses in long white robes and Greek style sandals.

Orientation: Bisexual
Side:Council

Element: Fire

Fire Mystic Abilties

Fire Control: Nika can control fire with total prowess and skill. This is greatly helped by her natural fire control.


Enhanced Fire Fight: She can shoot fireballs or jets of flame out of her hands, eyes, and mouth.


Enhanced Flaming Sword: She can form weapons out of flames they can cut through all materials that aren't protected by strong magic.


Enhanced Flaming Shield: She can form shields and armor out of flames they can protect from attacks that aren't magically potent.


Smoke Power: Nika can now use smoke to create tendrils and shields to attack and defend.


Enhanced Smokescreen: She can create smoke out of thin air and have a greater effect and control rather than just setting the area ablaze.


Thermal Control: Her body is always many degrees hotter than the normal human and it never changes. [/hide]

Sunfighter Abilities

Natural Fire Control: As a Sunfighter she has a natural affinity to control fire and smoke.


Greater Enhanced Physical prowess: Her natural prowess is tripled upon attaining the Spear of Helios.


Night Vision: She can see in the dark like a cat or like a snake.


Light Control: Her control of light is increased to that of a full sized spotlight and around ten flash bang grenades.


Enhanced Flight: She can fly at speeds upwards to Mach 5.


Enhanced Fire Charge: Due to her training in Sun Fist she can rapidly heat  up her muscles to be quicker, stronger, and more durable. With the spear the increase of her power is doubled and it lasts longer.  The downside  is though if it goes on for too long she will be greatly fatigued and  eventually it'll render her immobile. With the spear the downside is less drastic but it still wears on her.

Spear of Helios

Six feet tall and able to shoot beams of fire at enemies.

Spear of Helios: The weapon used by the God of the Sun to fight the darkness many eons ago. It can be used as something of an empowerment item that enhances a person's natural skill with fire and make them more powerful against opposing elements.

Mundane Skills

Hand-to-hand combatant: Like all of her people she is highly skilled in the fighting style of her people, the Sun Fist. It combines quick strong strikes with fire empowered muscles.

Competent weapon fighter: She is skilled with her sword and many other weapons.

Survivor: She knows how to survive in a number of hostile environments.

Skilled in Guerrilla Warfare: She is an expert in hit-and-run tactics and ambushes.


Weapon: The sword in the pic primarily, but she can use most kinds of weaponry well.

Personality: She is untrusting of those she doesn't know but when she warms up to them she is loyal to a T. She is also a mostly pleasant individual and enjoys playing her flute during down time.

Brief History: Born among the first tribe of the Sunfighters to venture out of their own dimension and over into this reality. The Sunfighters are too new to the Elder Council's war to be represented, Nika and a couple of her fellow warriors were sent to this dimension to scout out it's possibilities of being a second home for her people. They have only been in this dimension for a few years and it is already proving to not be the best place for them. If they wanted to battle evil they would've stayed beyond the Day Sky River.

They have been fighting their own dark enemies for Eons, the Fearstalkers. These two races are neighbors beyond the Sky River and have been a war ever since they were created. While no Fearstalker has been seen fighting for Mahvalli, Nika and her warriors will be on the look out for them. With this pedigree they are slightly more prepared to fight Mahavalli's dark army.

Torch Wolfblade

Name: Wolfblade
Age: 32
Gender:Female
Rank: Torch

Appearance(Pic or Description):

Wolfblade

6 foot even weighing 135 lbs eyes are a silvery color.

MagInk(school, actual tats, and abilities):

Creation School

Down her entire left arm This is her primary weapon, it forms into a solid black blade once she's summoned it.

Over her ribs on the right side
This is her usual tandem effect with the sword, it become a solid black shield.

Underside of both forearms
These are her secondary and close quarters weapons, like the rest of her tats become solid black when summoned.

Takes up her whole back She summons a pure black wolf to fight for her.

Non-MagInk gear: She carries a pair of normal steel swords that she hangs around her belt.

Non-MagInk skills/abilities: Highly skilled swordswomen and leader. She's tough as they come and very good with her hands.

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

History: Born to a devout family, growing up Wolfblade knew the Beacon's word was law above the Pillar's. Her family were the first to worship and the last to leave every day. She grew up knowing the Temple was always right that's why it didn't bother her when she got a wolf pup as her first MagInk at age two, even though she thought the Elemental School was far superior to the Creation School. Despite this though she had no choice so with a black wolf pup watching her back she began on the path she was meant for.

She was to be trained as a Lightbringer, the force behind the Beacon's words. She trained with the wolf pup and soon discovered her natural skill for blade, swords in particular. Excelling with the weapons she was granted a second Ink at age six the sword that goes down her left arm. While not uncommon for those in her situation it still made her the cool kid for a few years she even added blade to her name of Wolf.

With two Inks she marched confidently into adolescence, she even had herself a sweetheart to go home with, he was Foxdagger, And like her, he was a Creator with a skill in blades weapons, he was to daggers that Wolf was to swords. They were even serious enough to get their third MagInks together and have them match. They each got matching daggers Wolf on the underside of her left arm, and Fox got one under his right arm. They had plans to graduate Lightbringer training together and marry, but just as they were about to take the final vows of their training a Senior Lightbringer took a liking to Foxdagger and forced herself upon the seventeen-year old man.

Now in this society such a thing wasn't unheard of. As servants of the Gods the Beacon and Lightbringers were expected to mate and have many children. And being holy beings it wasn't considered being unfaithful if the individual was married. In fact Wolf had more siblings from Lightbringer Icequake than her own father. There was just something about it happening to you though that just seems wrong. After it happened she could see the life vanish from her young lover's eyes. The next day he was gone and his parents had no clue where he went. It was too much for the young woman, she hunted down the Lightbringer that ravaged Foxdagger and gutted the woman in her sleep.

Before the body was even cooled Wolfblade was fleeing the city, something told her Foxdagger was alive and out past the city limits. She would find him and they would be outcasts together. Her plan wasn't meant to succeed though, she was caught by some members of the Aurora Guard. None of them had any love for the Temple or the Lightbringers so they had no problem taking the young woman into their ranks. In memory of her Foxdagger she got a second dagger like the other one under her left arm. This was her fourth Ink and the beginning of her new life.

The years passed and she worked her way up to the rank of Torch in the Aurora guards and took a shield as her last MagInk. Now at 32 she is the leader of her own squad and personally asked by the Pillar to embark on a quest to find the sun and end the tyranny of the Beacon and his Lightbringers, even if it means being body and soul against her family.

Personality: Wolfblade is as dedicated to the Pillar as the Beacon's minions are to him. She takes pride in her job and considers it the highest honor to guard the true ruler of the Inkkin. As tough and rocky as she seems though she's a kind woman with a soft spot for the weak and oppressed. She's tempted the wrath of the Lightbringers numerous times in the past trying to stop them from exercising "divine right" over the huddled masses of Nyx.

Saoirse

True Name: Stricken from all unholy records
Chosen Name: Saoirse

Age: Ageless
Gender: female

Appearance(pic and description)

Saoirse

Saoirse is your typical Upper Hell Demon. She's very attractive and sports two curved black horns and black feathered wings. Usually dressed as above she is a woman of average height 5'6 and a supple weight of 130 pounds of lithe muscle. Her skin is dusky and almost feverishly warm to the touch at all times. Her eyes were once pure black orbs in her skull, but as she has begun to try and redeemed herself they have taken on a more human appearance with white around the pupil and they've become a chocolate brown color.

Race: Gray Demon(a demon trying to redeem their past ways)

Job: Former Tormentor

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Demonic Might: Saoirse still retains her superior physical capabilities even after forswearing Lucifer and his realm.

Wings: Saoi has wings still, and as such she can still fly with great speed and skill.

Charisma: Being a former demon of lust, Saoirse is extremely charming and charismatic. Though she rarely uses these traits to their full potential they can get her out of much trouble.

Resistance: Being a Demoness, Saoirse is immune to not only fire, but all kinds of dark or mind magic. This extends to artifacts of a dark or psychic nature.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Thief: Saoi is a master thief, she can steal the pants off a fully aware guard.

Dual-Wielding: After taking to the discipline of using a rapier like blade and dagger, Saoi is very skilled at using this deadly quick style to fight off troublemakers.

Thrown: She can throw her rapier, dagger, and normal throwing weapons with good skill and accuracy.

Lockpicking: No lock is unpickable and no safe uncrackable. Saoirse can get into anything.

Poison: Having lots of time on her hands with a lot of otherworldly ingredients to play with Saoi is highly skilled at making poisons.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Hellfang The sword in her pic, it's made of an enchanted obsidian found only in the deepest regions of hell. It's stronger than the strongest metal known to man and can cut finer than a razor.

Asmodeus's Nail: The parrying dagger in the pic made of the same material as Hellfang and is used with great skill alongside her sword.

Poison Spikes: Five small metal spikes kept around her person that she often dips in a highly virulent poison that can kill someone in seconds.


Armor(one sensible suit of armor)

Temptress's half-mail: As much her clothing as armor, the outfit in her picture works well as a Rogue's light armor and adds another level of enchanted protection. It gives her added protection against some magic spells and many mundane weapons.


Personality: A Demoness of Lust, even a former one shares the personality of her sisters. She's seductive, passionate, deviously charismatic, and a master of manipulation. Though she has been trying to break away from the stereotype for many centuries. Seductiveness has simmered down to simple cuteness, passion has become simply goal-oriented, devilish charisma became friendly, and manipulation became being able to read and not use it against them. But because Demons aren't meant to feel anything but the joy in tormenting Sinners for eternity.

Saoirse has changed though now she feels little more than regret and sorrow for her own sins. And that infectious kernel of hope that she can be better than what she was.

Likes: Training with her blades, trying to help people, justice.
Dislikes: Her origins, Hell, other Demons, The Morningstar, doing bad.

Background: Saoirse's early life has been stricken from all records, and even her own memories have been altered to be hazy the longer she stays on this path of redemption. But what she can remember clearly are dreams that showcase her past a a tormentor for the Level of Hell reserved for those guilty of Lust.

Cutting up genitals, scarring bodies, and teasing sinners with promises of freedom until they admitted every sin they committed then going back to tormenting them until she could feel their souls break and their hopes shatter. Back then she gained endless joy at their suffering, but now her own heart beats with despair and regret. Leaving Hell behind her she tries to help people here on Earth who still have a chance at redemption.

Other: Being a Tormentor of Lust doesn't leave any room or trust open for real relationships. But in Hell there isn't much to do but torment sinners and fuck so she knows her way around the bedroom.

Ni-Sai

Name: Ni-Sai
Class: Night Blade
Age: 36 Summers
Sex: Female
Race: Argonian

Appearance: 5'7, 125lbs, black scales, with purple lines going from her  bright yellow eyes to the back of her deeply curved gray horns. Before  the chains she usually dressed in good conditioned leather armor when  not working for the Brotherhood which she wore her usual Shrouded armor  and hood. Her body is extremely curvy and she's more than happy to show  off her perfect physique to distract guards long enough to steal away  some extra food or a confiscated shiv. But unwanted advances from anyone  will result in her sinking both her teeth and claws in and ripping huge  chunks from anyone bothering her.

Personality: Rather peppy and cheerful despite being a Shadowscale and  trained from hatching to kill without remorse and vanish as quick as a  shadow.
Background: Rogue

Bio:As is the norm for all Argonians born under the sign of the Shadow  she was taken from her hatchery and trained to be a killer nothing more,  nothing less. She knows how to kill with every part of her body and  every weapon on the plane of Nirn but she prefers the elegance of the  bow. And naturally she was accepted into the Dark Brotherhood without  delay once she was old enough to leave her native Black Marsh. And it  was actually on one of these missions she was captured and sent to work  in this miserable mine a botched murder of a Khajiit woman that saw her  fleeing from another murder in nearby Windhelm. Nothing very big but the  woman was pregnant maybe the long dead motherly instinct stopped her  just long enough for the woman to escape and the guards who had been  hunting her caught up and beat her senseless then tossed her like a dead  horker into the mine

Though they have stripped her of her favorite weapons and armor they all soon found out they were simply tools to make her job easier. She didn't need them to rip anyone, but the best of warriors apart. Being one of the few beast-people in the mine she developed a close friendship with the warrior Khajiit named Ra'Jiit. They watch each other backs from lusty guards and as well as the more desperate of the prisoners.

Skills:
Novice: Block, Smithing, One-Handed, Two-Handed, Heavy Armor, Destruction, Alchemy, Illusion, Conjuration, Enchanting
Apprentice: Lockpicking, Alteration, Light Armor, Pickpocket, Restoration, Sneak
Adept: Archery
Expert:
Master:
Preferred Faction: Dark Brotherhood
Preferred Allegiance: None but the Brotherhood

Ila Brightcloth

Name: Ila Brightcloth
Age: 325
Gender: Female

Appearance(pic and description):

Ila

Like all High Elves, Ila is a tall and graceful individual. 6'2 and a fit 145lbs of lithe martial artist muscle. The woman spends most of her day in training and as such her body is taut like a drum and her long time outside has turned her golden skin into a beautiful bronze making her almost look like a Wood Elf from a distance.

Though her medium length sandy blond hair usually gives her away should she not be wearing her hooded robes. Her golden green eyes are also a giveaway to her true heritage. But despite being the daughter of Queen Isalina Brightcloth she chooses to dress in the humble robes or travel garbs of the ancient temple of Khramira, the Goddess of Light and Magic and the Chief deity among the High Elves. A leftover from when the time of the Heartland Saga when High Elves and Wood Elves were the same race.

Race: High Elf
Job: Monk

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Mageblood: While not a classically trained mage. Ila is like all Elves and is blessed with extremely long life and enhanced durability as well as resistance to magic spells.

Keen Eyes High Elves have exceptionally good eyesight.

Energy Manipulation: The only magic skill she bothered to learn. The manipulation and control of energy used to heal or enhance her base abilities.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Light Fist: The name of the marital art taught in the Temple of Khramira. It teaches calm precise strikes over raw power. With emphasis on balance and agility.

Calm Mind: Another aspect of the Light Fist is the hours of meditation she dedicates to strengthen her mind and allow her an otherworldly ability to calm her mind and focus on whatever her task at hand is.

Endurance: Something most High Elves don't work on, but for Ila she put her people's dedication to arcane learning to pushing her body's limits beyond what they were the day before.

Staff Fighter: While it's against her Order's creed to kill things, there is nothing against protecting yourself and sometimes you need more range than your own two fists. For this Ila carries a long wooden staff made of springy wood that works as a walking stick as well as a weapon.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Yew Wood Staff: The only weapon she carries is her staff.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): None

Equipment: Fire making tools, water skins, warm clothes, the Tenants of Khramira. Dried food, rope, water proof cloak.

Personality: Ila is the picture of the content Elvin Monk. Always smiling or singing a song. Ila is about as far from the usual hard eyed High Elf as one could get. Most of her people are cruel and spiteful, but not Ila she's more human in her personality. Makes her quite the pleasant Elf to be around.

Likes: Training, the Temple of Khramira, being outside, the sun, bird song, hot hint tea.

Dislikes: Killing thing, hurting things, alcohol, the royal courts of the lands of Eisignol.

Background: Ila is the fifth daughter of the High Elf Queen Isalina Brightcloth and her third husband Halsifad. Ila is the youngest, but also the one least likely to find a throne in her future. As such it led to her life being free from the cut throat world of Elvin politics.

She was also very close with her father. He was a former monk of the same order she would later join. In most Elf culture this is how life works and for the most part Ila was fine with it. She did the same schooling as her sisters, but while they were learning magic and etiquette Ila was being taught how to meditate and fist fight by Halsifad. It was a nice life, in fact one of the best a young Elf could have by most reckoning.

Though as she aged she found herself without a path in life. Her sisters were Heirs, back-up heirs, mage leaders, and ambassadors. And what would she be? Best case, the wife of some wizard outside of Avelar to try and gain some favor with an angsty faction. But her father had other plans, a member of Khramira's temple never really stops being a member. And it was only at the Queen's insistence that he even left them to be wed. But he'd been training Ila for taking his place among the ancient order, and when she got old enough she undertook the training and become one of Khramira's Champions. Loving the life and discipline it taught her and it's a life she has been living for the better part of two centuries.

Other: While her order doesn't demand celibacy, Ila has refrained from engaging in sex so as to focus more on her fighting and meditation. But she could be swayed if the partner proves worthy enough.

Dannsair-Claidheimh

Name: Dannsair-Claidheimh
Age: 22
Gender: Female

Appearance(pic and description):

Dani

Tall and lithe of build, Dani is a woman of the world. Born on the road and trained from youth to be a Blade Maiden. Though she is young she has maintained a body both fit and feminine. She sports few scars as anyone who does what she does will no matter their skill level.

When on the road looking for work she is dressed as above, enough armor to keep her alive, but not enough to impede her greatest assets...speed and agility. The sensuality of her outfit also an easy way to distract her targets.

When not working, she wears a short tartan skirt of red and black along with short black boots. Her hair while now white was once the color of the setting sun in winter. And her eyes sparkle with violet magic.

Race: Human
Job: Sword Dancer

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Psychic Link: The skill that makes a Sword Dancer, while it starts in the blood it must be nourished. This ability allows her to control her blades without the use of her hands, able to sling them at foes or use them to deflect blows as well as deliver them. But this skill is taxing so she only uses it when necessary.

Enhanced Agility: While not quite superhuman levels, Dani has agility at the very peak of human capabilities.

Phantom Blades: Alongside her two physical weapons she can summon two more "phantom blades" to give her a total of four weapons, but she can only maintain the two extra swords for a few minutes before she exhausts herself.

Limited Blade Sentience: As her blades are imbued with primitive spirits of nature each has it's own level of limited sentience able to act on it's own to attack or defend. But only with three feet of Dannsair herself.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Mentally Sound: An odd skill, but one crucial to being a Sword Dancer. She must maintain the clearest focus and calmness while practicing her abilities particularly the Psychic Link and Phantom Blades otherwise the spirits in her swords could act out and hurt her or her allies.

Physical Fitness: Her class is as physically taxing as it is mental. As such she must maintain a very high level of physical fitness focusing on endurance and speed above all else.

Sword Expert: While not old enough to truly be a Master at her craft, Dannsair is still very skilled at sword fighting. While preferring one-handed blades she can manage just as well at two handed ones.

Duel-Wielding: Among the first skills a Sword Dancer learns, Dani can use two blades at a time quite skillfully.

Dancer: Right there in her class title, she is a skilled dancer. Able to dance with the grace of a ballerina or the sensuality of an exotic dancer.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Dancer's Blades: Two identical swords like the one in her image. They are light and sharp perfect for her quick precise striking fighting style.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): Just the outfit in her image, offers some protection while not hindering her speed and agility.

Equipment: Water skins, fire making tools, weapon maintenance tools, spare clothes, utility knife, rope, a warm cloak.

Personality: Young and eager, Dani is a girl of purpose and spirit. A perfectionist in every aspect of her life. But she is still just human so errors and mistakes get made, and while each one hits her harder than it should she never gives up on perfecting what ever she is setting her mind to.


Likes: Men, the sun and summer, dancing, her swords, learning, and fighting.

Dislikes: Making mistakes, losing, dull blades, drinking, smoking, the rain.

Background: Dannsair is the only daughter of a Sword Dancer and a traveling black smith. As is the nature of being a Sword Dancer they go through a great many swords until they reach the skill required to attain their first Physic Link. Each woman has a unique mind and a unique soul and they require a similarly unique type of sword. Too weak and the blade will shatter upon the first attempt at connecting, and too strong and the link will be unable to latch onto the metal. So a good an patient blacksmith is truly a blessing unto a Sword Dancer.

For her mother, the saber was her Link. For Dani it was the talwar, it hit harder but also required more focus. As such it took her til age sixteen to be able to bond to her first sword, even then she could never allow her focus to falter. She destroyed many blades by accidentally bashing them off rocks or getting them so stuck in trees they needed to be broken to get back. It caused a great many long nights for her poor father, but he loved her and always looked at the tasks as simply sharpening his own smithing skills.

And when she finally made her first solid connection it was time for her true partner blades to be made. It took her father a full year to make them and they would be the last things he made unfortunately. He didn't die, but an accident with the forge struck him fully blind unable to wield his hammer or work the fires safely. As such Dani's blades were started by her father and finished by her mother with her father's guidance. They weren't perfect, but they were made with love and care so to her they were perfect.

So at seventeen she began the hardest aspects of her training. Doing everything while connected to her swords using them as extensions of herself. And now at twenty-two, she is ready for the final test. Going out into the world and slaying a great foe with her blades and bathing them in it's blood. Now what that great foe is will remain unknown until the time comes to fight it. Could be a Dragon, Kraken, some malevolent Giant or even a human tyrant looking to destroy the world. As such she must journey far and wide looking for this foe and doing what deeds she could do to build up wealth and renown.


Other: Dannsair is currently a virgin, but she is open to fixing that.

Dina Ferizah

Name: Dina Ferizah
Age: 26
Gender: Female

Appearance(pic and description):

Dina

Tall among Sunfighter women, Dina is a towering 6'5 and weighs a swift 150lbs of fine muscle. Her dark skin, dark hair, and naturally fiery red eyes distinguishes her among most humans, but she keeps a set of brown contacts in when outside the Day Sky River and on missions.

When on mission she dresses as above, modest yet practical. But when home she dresses in loose fitting robes and sandals.

Race: Sunfighter
Job: Agent

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Child of the Sun: All Sunfighters possess the powers of the sun. Enhance strength, speed, durability, and agility.

Flight: All of her people can fly at high speeds through the sky.

Fire Manipulation: Complete control over fire to use it offensively or defensively.

Gravity Control: More energy consuming power, but one with devastating effect. Can crush foes, sling them off into space, or simply hold something in place.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Sun Fist: The Martial Art taught to all Sunfighters. Focusing on powerful hits and using their various racial powers in the most effective ways possible.

Desert Survivor: Born and raised in the arid climate of the Day Sky River, Dina is highly skilled at not only surviving, but thriving in a desert.

Espionage: Being an Agent, Dina is trained in all levels of Spycraft. Disguises, assassination, intelligence gathering, and deception.

Melee Combat: Most skilled in using the Sunfighter saber while shooting off fireballs with her free hand. But is skilled in all similarly shaped one handed blades.

Ranged Combat: While her fire abilities are her first choice for ranged combat she has learned how to use crossbows with deadly efficiency.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Sunfighter Saber: A well made, but largely unremarkable steel saber with a deeply curved blade.

Solar Flare: A specially made firearm that shoots fireballs at foes. Weaker than her actual fire shooting powers, but less of a strain on her Mana reserves.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): None

Equipment: Water skin, rope, spare clothes, spy gear, weapon maintenance kits, cloak, and Sunfighter sweets.

Personality: Dina is the type of woman who enjoys what she's doing even when it goes awry. Happy, easy-going, and when the need arises very dangerous and seductive.

Likes: Men, the sun, the sand, her job, her people, the beach, her homeland.

Dislikes: Fearstalkers, darkness, rocky terrain, rain forests.

Background: Born during a rare solar eclipse in the the realm of the Day Sky River. Dina has always been a child not afraid of the night. Always delving into places she ought not, learning things she thought she would never use, and experiencing things very few among the Sunfighters have. They shaped her into the femme fatale she is today and helped her chose her profession, as an agent she is one of the few Children of Helios to be allowed free access into the other realms.

Sent out as her people's first line of defense and intel gatherers on threats to her land and her people. She and her fellow Agents are the ones who decide if it's time to send in the Knights of Helios to wipe out the threat or just keep watching it. Though if she was being honest most of her job is wandering around trying to fit in with the normal humans and stay alive in face of all the troubles they seem to have in their world. It's a lonely life and she misses her home more often than not, as such when she does get to be home she hangs up her sword and rifle as soon as she gets into her house and never picks it back up until she's forced back out to do her job.

Other: Sometimes a job require some...intimate interactions. It's all business, but it sometimes feels quite good. Though she's yet to find a good man to settle down with.

Defender Ilandra Olin

Name: Ilandra Olin
Age: 4869
Gender: Female

Appearance(pic and description):

Defender Olin

5'4 and weighs 105 pounds of lean neko muscle. She usually wears those clothes when off duty.

Race: Neko
Rank: Defender

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4):

Sharpen Nails: Ilandra’s nails on both her feet and hands are very sharp and strong, easily capable of cutting flesh.

Enhanced Senses: With her feline genetics, Ilandra possesses  enhanced eyesight, hearing, sensitivity to smells, and a tremendous  ability to balance and maneuver.

Enhanced Body: Ilandra’s body is much stronger than one would  assume from her appearance, and she is quite capable of surprising feats  and moves.

Acrobatics: Practice and a healthy exercise regime has seen to it that Ilandra is extremely capable in the way of gymnastics.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Pistols: Ilandra is one of the best pistols shooters among the Defenders.

Martial Artist: Having many centuries to train in various Martial Arts from around the world, she's combined what she knows into one fluid style of ass-kicking.

Technological skill: Ilandra is something of a natural when it comes to technology. She can hack, engineer, and control things via computers.

Historian: Taking her duty as a Time Blade to another level she's been an avid student of history and everything the Time Blades have done with it. Much of it is stored in the Archives in HQ.

Chameleon: Her keen knowledge of history has turned her into one of the best undercover agents in the long history of the Time Blades.

Non-Rank Weapons(Limit of 2):

Two H&K Expert  Pistols

Other Gear/ personal effects: A locket with pictures of her parents and her sister in it.

Personality: Always a good little soldier and an extremely friendly and caring person  from her days as a Follower to her days going through Officer Training  to her commission as a Journeyman and even after she was selected from  the other candidates that went through the Defender training school to  be promoted to the important office of honor. But deep down she always  was an idealist and yearned to make the world a better place.

Background: Ilandra was born in the magical Fae forests of Europe during the warm days of  midsummer time had never existed in that place unless the Fae allowed it, so the village existed in relative Archaic times for Eons. Her village was a simple agricultural place where everyone  was like family even if they weren't related to you. It was blessed life,  but the blessing seemed to be limited to only her little hamlet of home  because when the time came for her to go out into the world on her own  at 16 she was slapped in the face by reality.

Her skills at  farming and woodcraft were for naught when she came to her first big  city...Paris. From her first day she was running from lustful men and  venomous women while dodging crooked guards and knights looking to get some blackmail  induced sex for overlooking her ignorance to made up laws. But even in  the face of all these horrid events she never lost her positive outlook  and hope for the world but she did develop a number of urban survival  skills she'd never learn on the farm. She was nearing her 20th birthday  when Keeper Murilegus and Journeyman Serus found her on a recruitment mission, she had been a vigilante for a few centuries before that.

She was overjoyed to be taken into the ranks of a group  whose sole purpose is to protect the world we live in. She made a best friend in fellow Follower Amabelle and together they climbed their ways through the ranks excelling in their classes and just as they were primed to be promoted to Vanguard and  join Vanguard Waverly who had been like a parent to them and  join her in training the next generation of Followers. But Keeper Murilegus approached her with the idea of going to Officer Training, once again she  was ecstatic at the honor and jumped at the chance. She was put under the  tutelage of Seeker Gar until her commission. She learned much from him, his knowledge of combat and gunsmithing skill were amazing. She reached her commission date and  proudly wore the full-sized longsword of her office everyday. But even  as an officer her zeal to help the world didn't stop, she continued to  work hard and excel in her training and it was this very enthusiasm that  brought Chronos Calabar himself to her room one day with an invite to  Defender School and the opportunity to become a guard of the Time  Sanctum. The Neko's heart nearly stopped at the very idea of such an  honor with the same joy and eagerness she showed throughout her career  she agreed and began the training.

Three months later she was  chosen among all the other candidates and strapped on the saber of the  Defender and served at her post bursting with pride even happier to be doing it with her best friend Amabelle. At first she had no  intention of breaking her oath, but one day when she was on monitor duty  an alarm sounded and the monitor zoomed in on a very familiar part of  Europe that she hadn't thought about in years... her village. She  watched as her baby sister now a very fine young Neko was kidnapped in  the middle of the night on her walk back home from working the fields by  some drunken young men and dragged out to the pond and raped again and  again until she was near death then the young men, still drunk stumbled  away not even bothering to clean up their crime. Ilandra was too shocked  to register the crime.
She did see how uncaring everyone was, they  assumed the computers were acting up and just let the alarm blare until  it stopped, but the computers are never wrong that was the spark that  began the Rouge Time Blade's quest on evil. At the start of her war it  was nothing to note back at the base just murders and assumptions the  computers were on the fritz. First were the rapists of her sister then  were the corrupt police of Paris, but all the killing wasn't changing the  world, that's how Ilandra got the idea to use the Time Stones and seek  out the very first seed of evil and kill it. And this is where our story begins.

Journeyman Thalia Serus

Name: Thalia Serus
Age: 1150
Gender: Female

Appearance(pic and description):

Thalia

5'9 and weighing a pleasurable 140 pounds of lean muscle under sumptuous womanly curves. Her pale skin compliments her black hair and bright red eyes well. When not in uniform she's dressed in a similar fashion as above only with a hooded cloak to keep her from getting dazzled by some of the brighter lights in the base.

Race: Vampire
Rank: Journeyman

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4):

Enhanced Physicality: Thalia has been a Vampire for well over five centuries. In that time she's steadily grown into a deceptively strong, fast, and durable woman. Able to toss a 300 pound man with ease, survive getting hit by a Big Mac truck, and out run some cars.

Bat Flight/ normal flight: She can either shift into a bat form and fly or with a strong concentration of will and fly in her human form.

Claws: Her claws are extremely strong and sharp and combined with her strength can rend concrete.

Enhanced Senses: Like all predators she has very keen senses. She can see in the dark, tracks through many different kinds of terrain, and hear the faintest of sounds.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Seductress: While not an actual Vampiric power despite the popular belief, Thalia is a very attractive woman and she knows it. Willing to work her charms on anyone should they deserve it.

Experienced: Life as one of the Aristocratic Undead has given Thalia a keen set of skills in communication, body language, espionage and the occasional assassination.

Swordswoman: Having taken a deep love for bladed weapons. Thalia is an expert with them in any shape or form.

Student of the Night: History and the dark world around her have always been fascinating. Much of her free time has been spent in study of the supernatural.

Dancer: Loving music, and loving the way it makes her feel. Thalia has dedicated much of her long life to learning the art of dance. Ballet being her favorite, doing it for so long has also given her an extremely graceful agility and balance.

Non-Rank Weapons(Limit of 2): The sword in her pic which she always carries and  an acid pistol gained from a trip to a far off world to help with some Demons which had been an unknown evil on said planet

Other Gear/ personal effects: A Blood Amulet that lets her survive for a little bit if she's ever caught outside in the sun. A painting of her Coven Family, and her sword maintenance kit.

Personality: One word describes Thalia...class, she moves and acts like she from a different era. Which she is, but it carries over even today. She is elegant, cultured, and strives for constant propriety.

She has put a lot of time and energy into controlling the urges of her kind of feast on blood. She still needs to feed, but instead of attacking an innocent she feeds off blood bags from the Hospital Wing of the base. As long as she's fed she has no problem controlling the urges, but force her to go a week or so without and she'll fall right into the bad old ways of the Vampire.

Background

Born in 1486 to the creme of the British Nobility, Thalia was raised in the shadow of her domineering old warrior Queen of a Grandmother Shawna. Her mother was a kind soul and raised her daughter in the finer things, but when it came to bare and bloody life...oh that was all Shawna. Coming from a long line of strong-willed women stretching back to the original Britons of England no one talked to Shawna unless she let them, and especially no man was even allowed in her presence unless accompanied by a woman of her household.

In those time that was nearly blasphemous for a woman to do such, Shawna cared not though, God made her like this. And changing would be like spitting in his face as an ungrateful wretch. This she passed onto her young granddaughter, even teaching her things that only "men" should know. Fighting, Education, Music, Governance and many more things. Thalia absorbed all of this with the skill of a sponge, it was a proud day for the young woman and her family when she completed the lessons to Lady Shawna's approval. This was on her 28th birthday. Sadly this was her last night to enjoy it, as she was out with some friends celebrating this, she was approached by a mysterious and handsome man. And being the average girl of the age mysterious and handsome were the easiest way to get to her heart.

And this man whose name she only learned to be Lysander did just that. He seduced the young woman, and just as they were at the peaks of ecstasy. She saw the soft glint of fangs and tried to react, but he was quicker than even her trained reflexes were. A sharp pain lanced through her body, but it soon faded into oblivion. She awoke an unknown number of hours later all alone, and with a ravenous hunger for human blood. She was in a cloud of sensation and half memories as soon as she sensed a human was near. Acting instinct she pounced, ripping the door of her room from its hinges she attacked the poor maid coming up to clean the rooms. Her new fangs drove deep into the girl's neck and soon Thalia felt the warm stickiness of blood pass her lips and down her throat, it was exquisite and she wanted more.
The next few hours were gone, once the hunger was satiated she found herself the last one standing in a room of ripped apart and bloodless corpses. Fear the worst she fled into the dying night and became one of the numerous undead that roamed the night.

The next five-hundred years were spent in mastering her skills, returning to the guise of human life, and slowly hunting down the man that turned her, this Lysander. Taking part in numerous shadowy battles throughout history she soon found herself in the company of some unexpected by impressive allies. The Time Blades, while not much of a leader or soldier, he skills with the sword and reading people attracted the mysterious group of Time Warriors. Knowing they could only aid her in her quest to find Lysander she readily joined them. Now she's a Journeyman and one of the lead investigators and interrogators for the group.

Other

Walking down the halls of the Time Blade HQ, her uniform tightly hugging every curve. Thalia Serus was on her way to Monitor Duty, every Time Blade, even the Chronos himself had a turn at Monitor Duty. Behind guarding the Time Sanctum this was the most important jobs of their organization. While it didn't carry the same grave sacredness or the fancy special rank as guarding the Sanctum, it's importance was never to be forgotten.

That is where they received all their intel on the world and answered the omnipresent alarms sent to them via the Time Stones. As soon as an alarm went up, the powerful, cosmically accurate supercomputers honed in on exactly where the disturbance in the Time Stream was, who it was, who it would effect, and even how quickly they had to act to keep things from going to all kinds of hell. It could be argued this job took even more skill and willpower than guarding the Sanctum. They had to watch everything going on around the world in real time, crimes, death, injustice. And they couldn't act on any of it unless it triggered an alarm, it has driven some of the weaker Blades to take their own lives or leave the group and have their minds wiped rather than live with seeing everything in graphic detail when they closed their eyes. 
No...being a Time Blade wasn't for everyone, only the greatest specimens of the Races could join and stick through with it to the end. The Vampress pulled her hood up and well-over her face and placed her arms behind her back, when she did this her comrades knew not to disturb her, because she was deep in thought. And much like waking a sleepwalker it wasn't wise to bother her.

Letting her feet lead without any orders from her brain she drifted back in time. Back to her first time Monitoring the Time Stream. Back then not many races they had come across had anything resembling computers or cameras. All monitoring was done by being placed into a trance-like meditation that connected their minds and souls directly to the Time Stones, the stones spoke through the Speakers(as they were called back then). A Defender's job was much more active back then, with a strong enough will some could twist or lie about what the stones said. Those people were killed on the spot for doing that, the warnings were still accurate, but due to the lack of technology the reactions time suffered at some points.
They were soon replaced by technology and the Media controlled world giving them easy access to everything needed to track activity. The Time Blades had a hand in this too, made their job easier and thus made the world a safer place. Twisted yes..but the truth.

Her first stint of duty was a century or two after she had been turned. Using the drive Grandma Shawna beat into her she worked on improving everything she had already been taught and putting some of it to practice. This drive spread like wildfire across the dark supernatural world and brought Chronos Calabar to her door one night with an invite into the Time Blades. She joined and took her oath before the dawn of the same day, and he first duty was sitting in a plush throne in a Temple and meditate letting her mind be cleared.
This seemed too good to be true, and once she got there it rung true. Getting to the place and getting into her meditative state was the easy part. What no one warned her about though was the fact she'd have watch helplessly as a poor woman was attacked, raped and killed on a muddy street in some nameless British town now lost to history. She had been raising two children on her own while her husband killed people who's only crime was not believing in the same God as he did, it was the talk of the town, but the sheer lack of compassion for her or the children was sickening. It was apparently her fault for being outside at night alone instead of home. She'd just been fetching water from the well, but no one seemed to remember that, they only saw a foolish woman with not enough sense left in her head with her husband gone fighting for God and Country. Outraged the Vampire broke from the trance with a deep blood chilling hiss intent to go down and raze that town to the ground.
Being ready the Defenders were all around her ready to strike the mad seductress down with extreme prejudice. Her temper was flaring and she had recently fed, so she was at 100% and could take them all down, but just as she was about to strike a heavy claw gripped her shoulder and spun her around hugging the slender woman to its owner's massive chest. great leathery wings wrapped around her, it was Calabar he had seen new recruits react this way many times and he found sometimes all they needed was a hug from someone too strong for them to break away from. Still in the throes of her boiling rage Thalia tried to attack the Gargoyle, but his supernaturally stone like skin, and the tightness at which he held her to him made any attempt to fight hopeless. Soon her rage gave way to pure pain and sorrow, her hissing breath became quiet sobs, and her beating and clawing hands became grasping and desperate for something saying it would be alright. Burying her face in his broad chest she wept into his green and white robes holding fast to him like a child to it's father.

Having seen this a lot as well the Defenders lowered their arms and turned their backs on the two letting the young Vampire weep in peace.
"It will be made right Thalia, time has a way of crushing those that deserve it." He rubbed her shaking back and just held the woman until her tears were gone, and he saw the beginning of acceptance in her red eyes. She was released from duty until she was sure she could handle it. In the end it took her week to truly come to grips and accept such things. She made up for each crime or injustice by doing good and saving lives whenever she could.
She came back to reality just as she reached the doors to the Monitor Room, taking a deep breath she adjusted her uniform and entered the room. She secretly hoped the Time Stream would be kind today.

The Reckoning Group

Bastian Snuk Thorquack WIP

Name: Snuk Thorquack
Age: 1100
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description):

Snuk the Duck

Snuk the man

Race: Quackardian
Job: Bastian in the Dimensional Shields

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Armor(one sensible suit of armor):

Equipment:

Augs(Limit of 3): None

Personality:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Background:

Other:

Duncan MacTavish WIP

Character Name: Duncan MacTavish of the Clan MacTavish of the Cambels of Argyll

Gender: Male

Nationality: Scottish

Age: 28

Appearance:
Average in height and weight but built with strong corded muscle, with tanned skin, long brown hair and fierce green eyes.

Dressed in a loose white shirt, kilt, and rabbit fur boots. In battle he's dressed in fine
chainmail breastplate, helmet and gauntlets.

Plaid(if applicable):  Campbell of Argyle.


Clan History(if applicable): MacTavish and Cambels of Argyle were born family but lived a tenuous existence of each other. Trust was rare when both clans were vying for the same land. When Sir William Wallace started his rebellion the MacTavish's were among the first to join him but the Cambel's of Argyll jumped over the the side of the English needless to  say it didn't get much better. It was only after Sir William's death that the MacTavish and Cambel's put aside their bickering and joined with King Robert the Bruce in his fighting off of the English. The Cambel's are a family of great antiquity and power as are the MacTavishes

Clan motto: Non Oblitus ( Do not forget me after death)

Personal History: Duncan is the middle son of the MacTavish Chief Andrew along with his brothers Samuel and Michael he journeyed to fight in the great war against tyranny.

Weapons: Lochaber Axe

Axe

Sgian dubh

         
Extra: His brothers and he prefer to be called of the MacTavish clan rather than the whole title.

Angus Wallace WIP

Name: Angus Wallace

Job: Professional fighter, he's known as "The Bull" because he never gives up in a fight and usually comes out on  top. His life is filled with challenge if not made by himself it's made  by others.

Physical Description: Average height, built like an brickhouse, has flaming red hair and black eyes, dressed in a black muscle shirt  with flame going around the bottom, rough and torn blue jeans, tan work  boots.

Personality: As Joshua's determination and courage. He's  always ready to defend his ideas and opinions. He loves any challenge  from taking the stairs instead of elevator to fighting off and finding  burglars rather than letting the Police find them. He can't stand any  level of laziness or cowardice, often winds up in trouble but never  backs down.

Johnny Calhoun WIP

Name: Johnny Calhoun
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Origin: New York, USA.
Animal attributes:

Hawk: Enhanced eyesight.

Bear: Enhanced strength.

Crocodile: Sharp teeth and strong bite.

Ratel: Sharp claws and enhanced aggression.

Appearance: Average height and weight but he has a plate mail like skin  structure much like a Croc's. His hair is a mix of dark brown, tan, and  black. His teeth and claws poke out even when not in use giving him a  very Lizard man appearance.

Liminal Manchester of the Crossroads WIP

Name: Liminal Manchester
Age: Ageless
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description):

Lim

Race: Crossroads Demon
Job: Dealer

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Personality:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Background:

Other:

Lady Lashiel Shadow WIP

Name: Lashiel Shadow
Age: 22
Gender: Female

Appearance(pic and description):

Lash

Race: Cursed-Revenant
Job: Shadow Knight

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Armor(one sensible suit of armor):

Equipment:

Personality:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Background:

Other:

Branded "Brand" Orcson WIP

Name: Branded Orcson
Age: 28
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description):

Brand

Race: Human (Raised by Orcs)
Job: Tribal Warrior

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Armor(one sensible suit of armor):

Equipment:

Personality:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Background:

Other:

Grace Callahan WIP

Name: Grace Callahan
Age: 3,500
Gender: Female

Appearance(pic and description):

Grace

Race: Phoenix
Job: Lawwoman

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Armor(one sensible suit of armor):

Equipment:

Personality:

Likes:

Dislikes:

Background:

Other:

Lord Thatcher WIP

Character Name: Thatcher

Gender: male

Names previously worshiped under: Khonvoum, Atlaua, Mixcoatl
Opochtli, Cernunnos, Nodens, Nyyrikki, Tapio, Orion, Lelantos, Banka-Mundi, Tekkeitsertok, Lord of the Wild Hunt.

Powers: Complete power and influence over animals of the land, sea, and  air. Ability to transform into and speak to any animal( Also called the  Lord of Werebeasts) Superior intelligence, strength, speed, agility, and  senses. Influence over fertility, superior marksmanship and tracking  skills,healing, and the ability to summon and fully control the  apocalyptic Wild Hunt.

Apperance: Work in progress.

Current Power: Decidedly less influence over animals and even less  ability to control them, he can still speak to them all and ask them to  assist him but not command and he can only transform in three animals  now a Stag, Wolf and Owl. While still quite smart, strong, fast and  agile, he's no where near what it was, sense have been depleted to simply  those of night vision, keen human hearing and smell. Almost no influence  over fertility aside from making the target blush, still a skilled  marksmen and tracker but can barley outdo a bloodhound and absolutely no  way of summoning the Wild Hunt let alone controlling it.
Personality: Solitary and quiet, keeps to himself and is always restless  and prowls about at all hours waiting for a chance to go hunt. He is   quick tempered and adamant about preserving the natural world. Hates  being in one place for too long and despises urban areas.

History: Waiting for what few prayers he gets to kill his boredom and  planning how he will ravage the world once he's back at full power. The  Humans have destroyed his hunting ground and pushed endless species to  extinction and many more are following them. He weeps sometimes when he  sees the animals killed for nothing more then trophies and because of  such greed and selfishness whatever fertility power he has doesn't get  exercised to any but a true hunter.

[Wilderness Soul]

Hopefully I'm not over stepping any policy, but I have quite a few things to announce that should be a substantial post so check them out!

First off some more ideas for the Requiem spoiler which I will put in the OP after this post.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P5dLu9ScRM0

The image kind of speaks for itself for a story. Either a dark fantasy about a Court of Madness looking for new recruits to join in their criminal enterprises or a story about bringing down said Court of Madness with superhero like antics.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDfS8B2-Mt4

This one takes me to an inbetween place. The distant future, but with remnants of the past still buzzing to life every night, inviting exploration and contemplation. What lies beyond the wall around our town? Where did this cozy little alleyway come from? What would it be like if it stopped raining and the smog cleared for just a minute? Could we see the star for the first time in centuries? Would there even be a sky left? If I keep walking West will I eventually reach the city limits?

Could support any number of pairings either in the future or even harken back to the good old days none of us really experienced?


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zaFMODV9tTU&list=PLWxWJ3K6XkxL-n1DnEvHbgjfUAgaNR2Nh&index=15

Like some of the others the song and video speaks for themselves. A couple split apart by the endless wars of their homelands or even by the jealous wrath of a God/Goddess seeking to lay claim upon one of our two hopeless lovers. Time and time again they come to each other in grief and strike, but with barely a kiss or whispered promise between them they are rent apart once more. And like a chasm opening up between them it becomes harder and harder to return. But if there is one thing stronger than fate it's the love that only two souls can fathom. And they will either bring the world to it's knees or die in the race to be with their lover.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5ep9d9JnVY&list=PLWxWJ3K6XkxL-n1DnEvHbgjfUAgaNR2Nh&index=40

This is very much wide open for any gothic themed story, but in particular it makes me think of someone waiting to be found. Someone locked away from the world either by their own hand or due to some cruel twist of fate or dastardly spell. Mayhap a beautiful Sorceress devastated by the loss of her family locked herself away with her powerful magic and some lowly woodsmen find her.

Or for the flip a powerful Knight sealed into the tomb at the bottom of the castle by some corrupt Mages who he tried to destroy and save the kingdom he loved. And a young heroine inspired by his tale seeks to free him and possibly become his Squire...or maybe something more as they take the corrupt Mages head on for the fate of all they know and love.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7kIohOdfoE

Not exactly a music video, but when a song makes my spine tingle whenever I hear it I feel it must be put down for inspiration. Now I know it's from DA:I, but I feel the song itself can lend to a fantastic story that isn't set in the Dragon Age world.

Two lost souls facing the depthless night that has haunted them for their entire lives. Filling their every waking moment and much of their nightmares with it's power. But for every night no matter how long there will be a done and with that dawn, comes hope and an earth shaking reckoning.

Or from a more realistic story. The battle against the monsters of depression and sorrow, two aimless fools beaten down by life finding strength in one another and seeking that long awaited dawn.


Next I'm adding a few more of my favorite characters to Recast which like the songs will be added to the Recast post after this is done!

Hasher Wolfgrain

Name: Hasher Cagdon Wolfgrain
Wolf Name:  Savage"
Age: 25


Appearance:

Hair: Short, dark brown, never goes below his neck, but is wild and uncombed.


Body: 6'1, burly, his skin is deep brown from the constant exposure to sun. His outfit is that of a Mountain hermit, Deer skin shirt and jacket tanned and waterproofed, kilt with green, gray, and black colors adorning it, rabbit skin boots with the fur on the outside.

Eye Color: Fiery gold

Wolf Appearance: Pitch black fur, standing 5 feet from paw to shoulder, abnormally large paws often tinted with blood.


Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4)

Physically superior: Even by Lycan standards Hasher is stronger, faster, and more durable than most of his kind.

Senses: Like all Lycans his senses of smell, sight, and hearing are exceptionally keen.

Claws and teeth: Perpetually stuck in a state of half transformation, his claws and teeth are always present and ready to be used.

Rage: A genetic mutation, when under a great deal of stress or if he feels life is in immediate danger he can become enraged and unpredictable doubling all of his physical abilities until the rage or the danger passes.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Fighter: First and foremost, Hasher is skilled a kick boxer.

Hunter: One of his jobs is tracking down trouble makers and bringing them back to the Project.

Rifleman: A big fan of hunting rifles and blessed with a keen eye of accuracy.

Guard: Used primarily as security in the Silverlight Project he knows the inns and outs of industrial security including skills with handguns, tasers, and pepper spray.

Obedient but unbroken: Having accepted his fate a long time ago, Hasher knows how to listen to orders and execute them perfectly, but will never be broken and turned into a mindless dog like so many of his "siblings".

Equipment: Aside from the clothes on his back he only carries what he's needs to for a job.

Personality: Hasher's personality can best be described as "animal in a cage". He keeps to himself and does nothing more than what he has to survive. Living each moment as it comes to him, but behind it also a fatalist mentality. He knows his life is only as valuable as his Masters wish it to be. He just wishes they kill him sooner rather than later.

Likes: Being left alone, women, graphic novels.

Dislikes: Everything else about his life, but the rich and the more "successful experiments" hold a special place of hatred within him.


Bio: Hasher's life begins and ends with the Silverlight Project. His mother was kidnapped from a clan in the mountains. The young man never knew what became of them, as his mother's tongue was removed before he was born. She raised him as best as she could, but like most female Lycans she was subjected to horrors no one should have to endure.

But endured she did, right up until he killed a young wizard who was trying to force himself upon her. Hasher even as a child was strong and violent, he ripped the wizard's throat out by his teeth and by rights he should've died that night instead of his mother. But the guards that pulled him off the young wizard saw his power and convinced the Council that it would be a waste of an asset so instead they just killed his mother in front of him as his only warning. And it worked...kind of.

While he never openly attacked another wizard, he didn't get on his knees for any of them either. The Captain of the Guard became like a father to him, but even that didn't save the young Lycan from enduing his own trials and punishments until they had sculpted him into a killing machine. Now he's reached the age where he is to be let out into the compound on bigger and more important jobs. It's a taste of freedom, but one that still turns to ash in his mouth when he thinks about what he could've had in the mountains. A father, a mother, perhaps real siblings and elders to teach him and support him. But he keeps those thoughts to himself, the Wizard's don't like Failures that think too much.

Other: Having been raised among other "Useful Failures" both male and female he's shared warmth with some of the girls on cold nights.

Constable of the Grey Cousland

Name: Zadkiel Cousland
Race: Human
Age: 35
       
Gender(M or F): Male
P.o.B: Vigil's Keep, Amaranthine, Fereldon
Side: Warden-Constable of the Grey Wardens

Class: Warrior
Specialization: Champion

Skills(limit of 4)

Champion: A leader on and off the battlefield, Zad leads from the front and has a keen mind for tactics and keeping his comrades ready for battle.

Swordsmen: His preferred skill, Zadkiel is one of the best sword fighters in the present Grey Warden's ranks. Able to duel-wield as well as he fights with a sword and shield.

Boxer: When without weapons Zad is a proficient fist fighter although he lacks real finesse.

Shield Wall: His specialization gives him great skill with shield combat able to defend and skillfully fight with it.

Spells(Mage only, limit of 3): N/A

Appearance(pic or description): 

Zadkiel

Zadkiel is a man of average height but stout build, his eyes are a deep brown and they always seem to glow with a powerful will.

Weapons(limit of 2, pic or description): The two swords in the pic and a shield
Armor(limit of 1, pic or description): The armor in the pic it's made of a high-grade Red Steel.

Equipment(pic or description): Zad carries the usual fire making tools, five Health Potions, and weapons maintenance kits.

Runes: His primary sword in his left hand has an Expert level Silverite rune and his shield has a Journeyman Barrier Rune.
       
Personality: Zadkiel is a very determined and collected man, he has an almost unbending sense of honor towards everyone and everything. Even his enemies are subject to it, though usually only goes as far as giving them a quick death.

Background:

A direct descendant of the first Warden-Commander of Vigil's Keep, Zadkiel cut his teeth on stories of his fantastical ancestor. How he and his fellow Grey Warden the late King Alistair survived the betrayal of Teyrn Loghain, assembled an army of epic proportions, and ended the Fifth Blight. That was not the end of it though, next his ancestor restored Vigil's Keep to it's former glory and beat back another Darkspawn incursion this one led by two separate entities warring for power.

Needless to say any and every Cousland after that man had much to live up to. Zadkiel and his father Raziel were no different, every day was training, education, and slowly perfecting their skills. But they can only do so much with Darkspawn being so scarce on the surface and the Deep Roads being too far away and too dangerous for an Arl to risk his life or the life of his only son in seeking out glory. While the older Warden was content to slowly wait for his Long Walk through the Deep Roads looking for a glorious death. This was unacceptable for the young Warrior, he couldn't stand just sitting around fighting shadows waiting for the Darkspawn to find another Archdemon which might not even happen in his lifetime. He desired nothing more than to lift the shield his ancestor used and cut a huge swath through the horde and emblazon his name across the stars. 

So just before he was to undergo the Joining at age eighteen he talked some of his fellow young soldiers into joining him in an adventure into an opening the Deep Roads he found one day while out training. Six of the young men went down into this pit and instantly found themselves in over their heads. Three of the boys were killed by a shower of Darkspawn arrows, the other three scattered into whatever little hole they could find. When the arrows stopped falling the Darkspawn sought them out and so began Zadkiel's first fight with the twisted monsters. He and his two remaining comrades managed to fight their way out of the Darkspawn ranks and ran for it, it was a direct affront to Zadkiel's personal honor and it would haunt him right up the day both his friends died from the Darkspawn's poisonous blood. Despite his best efforts to convince himself otherwise he knew all six of his friends' deaths were his fault. He had faced the punishment for taking them out as untrained as they all were but it was the actual looking in the face of the other young men that made the fact sink in. After that day he threw himself fully into the ways of honor and being the epitome of a leader. He even underwent the rigorous education needed to gain the Champion Specialization, he rebuilt his honor and will never let it go again. His honor is exactly what made him be the first volunteer to help the Elves of Endor out. Besides the Darkspawn vanished over two years ago and he was getting rusty he missed out on the Inquisition, but had been training himself far away in the mountains so it wasn't a totally wasted time.

Other:

The dawn broke over the mighty walls of Vigil's Keep. Home to the Ferelden Wardens, warriors extraordinaire and saviors of the Arl of Amaranthine. Guards both mundane and Warden initiates patrolled the ramparts. Darkspawn might be scarce, but bandits and pretentious Princes will never go extinct in Fereldon and the Keep was a shining jewel among the clouds and a magnet for fools looking to find glory.

Luckily most who come to Vigil's Keep aren't looking for trouble, just potential work as a guard or a maybe even a Warden. And right now one such recruit is in the training yard standing across the ring from the Constable of the Grey himself Zadkiel Cousland. The Recruit was solidly built youth with a square fresh face and short dark brown hair. His name was Issac and he was dressed in just a pair of boots and pants as he stretched with a heavy training hammer eyeing the Warden-Constable up. Zad was seated upon a hay bale a dull training sword hanging loosely from his fingers dressed in the same manner. A small smirk was on his face as he watched the young man pump himself up. It wasn't too long ago Zad was just like him, eager for a fight, willing to endure all kinds of pain just to prove himself the best.

Reality always has a way of putting the arrogant down though. One of the many hard lessons a man must learn before he can call himself done. Issac finished up his stretches and shouldered the heavy hammer walking to the middle of the ring bouncing lightly on his feet. Standing up Zadkiel spun the sword around his hand and joined Issac in the ring. The Senior Warden Xander would be reffing the match and determining the young man's worth to the Wardens.

The men squared off and with a nod Xander laid out the rules.
"Gentlemen, this is a match of points. You will be using safer training weapons, but they can still injure. First blood and the match is ended no winner, you need three points to win. One point for a strike to the legs or torso, two points for the head and three for disarming or simulating a kill shot. Understood?"

The two men nodded, then Xander continued.
"Alright go to your corners and come out swinging. Best of luck gentlemen." He waved the two men away then took his place out of the designated combat area and let out a shrill whistle. Issac let out a bellow and charged full into Zadkiel many of the older Wardens were seated on bench sipping ale and chuckling at the boy. He's already lost he just didn't know it yet. Zad smiled and engaged the youth. He easily ducked under the man's heavy overhead swing and landed the first hit his blade slapping Issac's shin making him stumble forward some.

"Point Zadkiel!" Shouted Xander.

Issac groaned lightly hopping on his good leg quickly locking onto Zad again. He expected an immediate follow-up strike, but the Warden was simply standing in a relaxed pose his sword's tip resting in the dirt.
"Don't rush headfirst into conflict young man, the Hurlocks are slightly stronger than an average man and bull rushing is their specialty."

Issac nodded he didn't expect to be getting free lessons from the Warden-Constable. But he wasn't some farmer who had picked up his first weapon a week ago. He has been a guard in Denerim for three years. He took the man's advice and changed up his strategy. He still charged, but feinted his next downward strike quickly changing it into a forward thrust of the hammer's head. This surprised Zad, but not enough to cost him a point, he dropped to the ground and rolled aside he clipped Issac's leg again before moving out of range.

"Point Zadkiel!" Xander announced again.

Issac growled feeling anger build up inside of him. He didn't give Zad a chance to recover he charged and unleashed a barrage of attacks. Zadkiel blocked each attack the smile slowly leaving his face as he danced around the ring. He watched Xander's face slacken in disappointment some at the young man, but Zad saw potential. Still this had to end, he skipped out of range again only this time he attack. Charge and nimbly ducking under Issac's guard he smashed the man in his stomach with the pommel of his sword then quickly aimed the the point under Issac's chin lifting his head and nodding.

"Killshot Zadkiel wins!" Xander shouted the other Wardens clapped for Zadkiel who lowered his blade and patted Issac on his shoulder. "You are strong Issac, but your temper will be your downfall if you cannot control it. Senior Warden Xander will work with you more, before we can let you do the Joining understood?"

Issac nodded bowing a little to Zadkiel.
"Yes Warden-Constable thank you."

Zad smiled and tossed the training blade to the Senior Warden before exiting the ring and gathering his clothing and normal weapons.

Rancor

Name: Rancor
Nickname: Night Angel
Age: Ageless

Gender: Male
Race: Fallen Angel

Appearance Description/Photograph:

Rancor

8 feet high and weighing 450 pounds. His wings are 15 feet long and 5 feet wide.

Orientation: Straight
Side: The Night

Element: Darkness

Abilities

Divine Physiology: His physical powers are well above those of a human.
Flight: Even with his eight wings cut down to two he can fly up to speeds of Mach 5.
Crystal Shard: His feathers can become like crystal and cut enemies as he flies or he can launch them out at people.
Crystal Blade: He can pluck a crystal feather off his wings and use it like a strong and sharp sword.

Power of Night: He can manipulate shadows and darkness to make weapons and armor.
Shard Shield: In times of need he can fold his wings  around him and create a strong shield but if his wings shatter or get  broken he can no longer fly.
Shadow Cloak: Using the shadows around him he can vanish from sight and reappear elsewhere.

Skills

Expert hand-to-hand combatant.
Skilled in the use of his wings to evade and attack.
Great experience and intellect.
Skilled in the use of melee weapons.
Good accuracy with his Crystal Shard power.
Very charismatic.
Skilled in espionage.

Weapon: The bladed gauntlets in the pic, his wings, and the Crystal swords.
Personality: He is a somber and serious being, rarely does he smile and  even more rarely does he laugh. He sees only the pitiful creatures that  were created inferior to him.

Brief History: Once he was the angel in charge of ushering the night and  lifting the moon to the sky. But as he grew older and his task became  more and more mundane. His goals moved from simply heralding the night  to ruling it, gaining a strong influence over the creatures of the night  and causing them to attack the "Day Walkers" as he called everyone  else. This is what caused him to be cast down from his perch and his  duty ripped from him. It wouldn't have bothered him much except a freak  of nature, he had the misfortune to call sibling was given his power and  duty. This was the last thing that pushed him to serve Mahvalli as the  Spymaster of his Army.

Other: Rancor has been around a long time and seen many lovers.

Duke Solar

Name: Duke Solar
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Appearance(pic and description):

Duke

6'0 185 lbs, keeps his hair dyed green, and usually dressed in casual loose fitting clothes with plenty of pockets and a utility belt.

Race: Human
Job: Fugitive Hacker

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4):

Blend: Common within his race, Duke is very capable of blending in and adapting to most of his surroundings.

Adaptation: Throughout the centuries humans have been plagued with diseases, famine, and near total annihilation, their genetic coding took all of this into consideration and naturally adapted them to their surroundings, even as those surroundings changed.

Genius: Duke's intelligence is his greatest asset, he's never bothered to measure it, but the way he goes through Files and Electronics makes it obvious.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Technomancer: While not the real kind of magic, Duke calls his skills this because the way he works with all kinds of technology is quite magical.

Inventor: Not trusting the crap you can buy to not fall apart the second you get it. Duke builds almost all of his own gear and programs from the ground up. Makes his shit even harder to get into.

Circus Blade Performer: Before he stumbled upon his hacking skilz, he was in the circus as a knife and sword performer, as such he's a genuine master with knives and swords. Both fighting and throwing.

Runner: Years of keeping ahead of the law and never staying in one place for long have given the young man the build of a runner and the drive of a rabbit escaping ravenous dogs.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):
Mercury Energy Knife that can burn through metal surfaces with enough force.

Wasp Revolver fires quick painful bolts of plasma, but not the ebst for raw knock down power.

Cold Fusion Energy Sword Effective, but so expensive to use and recharge.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor):

Hacked Night Armor

A customized version of the Dominion Stealth armor it sacrifices some protection for giving him a fully integrated HUD that lets him remotely hack into tech within the range of his sensors.

Augs(Limit of 3):None

Personality: Duke's most upfront and unapologetic personality trait is his ego. He's cocky handsome, smart, skilled, and worst of all...he is well aware of how awesome he is. Thinking himself God's gift to women and the tech word. One redeemable quality though is he's a nose to the grind worker and refuses to stop until it's perfect. And his competitive streak forces him to come up with oftentimes unique ways to handle challenges.

Likes: Women, sex, technology, knives and swords, being the best, and being rich.
Dislikes: Sexual competition, low-tech, guns, being second, and being poor.

Background

Though the likelihood of getting the truth out of him is low and even less if you’re an attractive woman, Duke's life is about as far from what you'd expect as you can get. You'd expect him to have been an orphan running around the trash-clogged streets of some Dominion Mega City. Living by his wits and only worrying about where his next meal is coming from and where can he hunker down for a few hours of sleep before diving back into the dredges of humanity.

But as much as he would love to deny it Duke was born in a small frontier town at the edge  of the Dominion's reach, and he was born into a traveling circus. The Dusty Boot Troupe as they called themselves, it was a small family owned and operated organization. They had a Lion(Cougar) Tamer, Clowns, various kinds of Acrobats, and an old Crotchety Knife Thrower, with a young and impressive kid who was on the fast track to replace the old  man. In reality this was Duke's Grandfather, Amos Runner. Duke was the youngest cousin and an only child, and with his parents running the circus, the young man found himself under his Grandfather's stern eye more than anything else.

It wasn't an altogether bad life, but boring and frustrating for young man with a Genius IQ. He got into a lot of trouble growing up, fights, fooling with young girls, and cheating the law. It was after one such dalliance that he was taken off the bleachers and into the Ring. Seeing it as a way to get his gifts focused in a positive direction, this led even deeper into Grandpa  Amos's wiry strong arms. Woken up on the dawn of his 10th birthday young Duke began his training as a Blade Trickster. Amos was given free reign over how to teach the boy, much to the kid's pain and annoyance. This meant military style Physical Training and the law of the switch. It was rough, but eventually Duke saw the positive side of this he was getting strong and damn good looking, and he was leaning how to kill someone in the most badass ways.

His already booming confidence skyrocketed with the success of his first act even if it was just assisting his Grandfather. Seeing a way to make some easy money and be every level of  badass, Duke truly dedicated himself to learning the art of Knives and Swords. Once he set his mind to it, he quickly became the star of the circus. Thinking his evil ways were truly gone, the family went back to happily looking the other way. But while he's never been malicious he had plans that were..less than savory all in the name of being the best.
Using the money he was earning in the circus, he began building his impressive arsenal of tech and using his natural skill at the hacker lifestyle he began tackling whatever system thought it was better than him, breaking in and taking money, hacking private nudy pics and sending them all across the web. The usual stuff snot-nosed 14 year old Geniuses did, no one knew about it and even when his family found random amounts of money dropped into their accounts with no trace of where it came from.

This continued right up until he bit off more than he could chew at 18, with every system on the planet and many of the neighboring planets his bitch he was looking farther for even more challenges. And he found it in a Skorne outpost located on a nearby moon, now the Skorne are the most technologically advanced race in this part of the Universe and many other parts of it as well. No one has been able to hack into their systems, many have tried and some have even come close, but each attempt ended the same way. Their gear got fried and a Skorne hit squad was on its way to the Hacker's Door to arrest and more than likely kill them once they got into Skorne Territory. 
Successfully hacking into their shit would make you a fucking legend and you'd have bitches lining up at your door for a fucking chance to get into your bed. That was motivation enough for the young Genius, it took him weeks to even get to the front door of the Skorne Network, but once he got there he knew it was a race against time before the Skorne Tech Ops sniffed him out and took him out. Duke had never felt a thrill like this ever before, sure he's come up against networks he couldn't take down. But never has the thrill of death been this close.

The furthest anyone has gotten was to the second firewall that surrounds the outer limits of the network itself. Duke planned to get past that and rape his way all the way to the heart of the Virgin Skorne Network. Days went by and he slowly chipped away the 7 million veils, his shows went on without him and he could almost taste the last of the cyber defenses falling before he reached the record. Fate was not for young Duke this day though, an inch from breaking the record his system froze and a message scrawled across the screen.

"YOU ARE CAUGHT, IN THE NAME OF THE SKORNE EMPIRE! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST!" Letting them fry his gear was hard, but it had to be done. Besides he covered his tracks well enough that they'd only come after him and leave his family alone. Grabbing what money and stuff he could and his favorite knife (the Mercury Energy Knife he'd saved up for) he jumped the next vessel off his home planet not even bothering to tell his family goodbye. He began the life he'd always liked to brag about, a refugee living by his wits and skill. From 18 to 25 he lived like this, banging bitches when he could, rebuilding his gear, and dodging Skorne hit-squads. It was during this life when he came across the Black Star Privateers and a chick he's wanted to bang since he crossed cyber-swords with her a few years back. Ekaterina Caiven Rovitz, she would be his crowning jewel, and after he knocked out his competition he joined the crew and began his plans to win her.

Captain Sebastian Grimm

Name: Sebastian Grimm
Race: Human
Age: 32

Gender(M or F): Male
P.o.B: Kirkwall, Free Marches
Job: Captain of the Pirate ship, the Wave Marcher.

Class: Warrior
Specialization: Swashbuckler

Natural abilities

Tough Bastard: Captain Grimm is one of the toughest bastards on the crew. He's lived through more horrors than even some of the more fantastical crewmembers can brag about.

Quick mind, quick hands: Living by the skin of your teeth and the strength of your arm gives you a certain level of wit and agility. Sebastian has taken this aspect and took it as high as he physically can.

Skills

Leader: From running an urchin gang in Kirkwall, to fighting in a war for some puffed Wizard who didn't like how another puffed up Wizard looked, to taking over the Wave Marcher from the old Captain and leading the wild crew. Grimm knows how to lead and knows how to listen.

Sailor: As good at steering as he is swimming or running through the ropes. Sebastian knows his ship and sometimes takes over for some of the tired crewmates.

Fighter: Having learned you need to fight to survive Captain Grimm is a good fighter having long training in ranged, melee and fist fighting.

Charm: A charming man known for his love of women as much as he is known for being such a good pirate.

Appearance(pic or description)

Captain Grimm

Captain Grimm is a stout man of above average height. 6 foot even and weighing a muscular 200 pounds from a hard life on the hard streets of Kirkwall in the Free Marches and fighting armies across the globe. If scars could speak Sebastian would never need to utter a word.

His skin is rough and tanned from rarely knowing a roof over his head or most forms of luxury. His eyes are the dark blue of the clear night sky, his clothing is generally the above, but he has been known to go shirtless or dress up for meetings with finer company. And of course he has a long gray captain's coat.

As respectable as he can dress Sebastian's real appeal is the large myriad of scars and worn over wounds that cover his body from head to toe. Magic spells injuries, blade wounds, severe burns, each one looking like it should've killed him, but somehow Captain Grimm has lived through it all.

Weapons(limit of 2, pic or description)

Master craft Cutlass: The sword he was given by his old Captain, it's a wonderfully made weapon from star metal.

Sling and stone: His favored ranged weapon is a tough elastic leather strap he flings smooth and extremely hard river stones from with deadly skill.

Armor(limit of 1, pic or description): None

Equipment(pic or description): When he has to walk on land he carries firemaking tools, water, some dried meat, spare clothes, and a sharpening stone.

Runes: A single rune of Devastation on his cutlass.

Personality: Captain Grimm is a man of well-placed confidence and the passion brought on by cheating death and never really knowing when his number was about to be called. He tries to live his life to the fullest he can each day. But one cannot play all day when lives are on the line. Reality has taught him this lesson at some grave cost. Though reluctant most times, he takes his job seriously and knows the crew sometimes needs a leader more than it needs a friend.

Background

Like many kids running around the slums of Kirkwall, Sebastian was an orphan with only the Grimm surname to go by for ancestry. Spending his days thieving and his nights hiding from the law and the kid snatchers who were always hunting for young bloods to sell or shanghai. Whether for soldiers, slaves, or sex, kids with no parents and no one else giving a damn about them were easy pickings for these soulless cads.

Many of them learned early on to rely only on themselves and whatever friends they had managed to make. Street gangs formed shortly after and they began to take over the dirty streets. Sebastian was in one such gang, they called themselves the Dawn Street Guild and made existence possible for their fellow children. Sheltering the young ones, protecting the weak ones, and keeping the pretty ones out of the Snatchers' hands. He joined them young and was just a messenger going between their bases and those that gave them jobs for food that day, but as he aged his natural leadership and almost otherworldly toughness preceded his somewhat mundane appearance. Surviving a great fall from the roof of a horse stable, living through a Snatcher's blade plunging into his thigh, suffering a fireball to the chest. Nothing seemed to stop the young orphan and when he grew big enough to challenge the leader of his little gang, half the battle was won when Sebastian pulled his shirt off showing a lean body with scars and bruises peppering the young flesh. After that is was just a case of making the old boss trip over himself and fall off the roof where their base was set up.

That was the first day of a life of running, fighting, and killing. Under his rule the little gang turned into an actual Thieves Guild, while they kept their original name they didn't need to steal to eat...no they lived to steal! Good food, a warm base, and even some recruitment areas to bring in fresh blood. While they still plied their skills towards saving kids other operations began to take precedence. Eventually they got too big for their britches and brought on a Street Gang's worst nightmare...Guards recruiting for the military. Unlike most other places "recruiting" in Kirkwall was more being forced into service at the tip of a blade. The Dawn Street Guild was destroyed and many of the free spirited members were killed before they could be drafted. Sebastian wasn't as lucky, he fought the Guards and took a few wounds, but nothing killed him, they just took the wind out of his sails and allowed someone to knock him out from behind.
He awoke an untold amount of time later in the stinking cargo-hold of a swaying ship, he was surrounded by young men and women around his age. Many of the girls were pretty, but no one seemed to notice. He knew some of them and the meek listless eyes were very far from what they normally were. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he noticed everyone even himself were wearing strange runic collars. Upon becoming fully awake he felt it's effects immediately. His mind was going fuzzy and gray, the shapes of his fellow captives became amorphous blobs, he was now a private in Lord Malkor's army.

His military career was much like that first day, a blur of pain, darkness, and blood. Eventually they removed the collars so soldiers could be smarter and more likely to win. But many spirits were already broken from the rigorous training so they were listless husks for life. Sebastian was for a time, but eventually he found his personality again. He played the drone for eight years, learning the skills, winning the wars, killing the other guy. But at twenty-five he was done with it, he'd collected more scars and extended his rep at being one tough S.O.B and that was enough for him, he killed his C.O. and ran into the sea never looking back. Five more years followed and in that time he eventually found himself in the good graces of one Captain Hilgard of the Wave Marcher. He'd joined the crew as a spotter, but quickly won the trust and some might say favor of the grizzled old seadog. It wasn't often old Captain Hilgard met someone as tough as him, but he found that kindred spirit in young Sebastian. They would drink for hours into the night and compare wounds and war stories, the younger sailor was happy for a change. But happiness is momentary, because Captain Hilgard was reaching the end of his life and a successor was needed. At first many of the crew, Grimm included, figured it would be his daughter Brigett. She was being trained for it and she had the tough iron fisted personality a good Captain needed.

This is why it was such a big surprise when Sebastian was given the old man's coat and sword. He accepted of course, but Brigett was pissed and promptly left the crew after her father's death. So after getting over losing that wonderful ass and fun sex he and Brigiett had he found some new crew and called them Grimm's Reapers. Cast off wretches, former soldiers, anyone he thought would help his crew be the best of the best.

Other: Captain Grimm is like any Pirate, he loves women and he loves being with women. But he's too wild for a solid relationship.

Chief Thorg Whitegale of the Twister Clan

Name: Thorg Whitegale of the Twister Clan
Age: 40
Gender(m/f):Male
Role: Chief


Clan: Twister
Element: Wind
Elemental Abilities(limit of 4)

Vortex: Using long tendrils of Mana, Thorg can spin his arms and body around and create a powerful and damaging twister that can knock enemies down, throw them away, and send ships off their flight plans.

Wind Punch: Summoning a dense column of wind behind him Thorg can use it like a battering ram and punch a hole through soft enemies or send armored ones off their feet. The bigger the enemy though or the quicker it's moving the more Mana it takes and once it's thrown he can't change it's direction.

Gusting Veil: Taking only a small amount of Mana, Chief Whitegale can create sandstorms or dirtstorms that can blind his foes.

Levitation: Throg has mastered a rare skill even among the Twister Clan. He can lift himself off the ground and actually fly across the earth without his feet even touching the ground. It has taken him twenty year to do so and he can't go much higher than five feet off the ground. But his speed is great and he can keep it going for ten minutes solid, but on minute eleven he'd drop like a rock and be good as dead.


Secondary Element Ability(optional): Light.

Whitegale: This is his most respected skill and his namesake upon being named Chief of the Twister Clan as a young man. Using a massive dose of Mana he can create a chaotic shield of white wind around himself and others that protects from even Skorne Lasers. But it requires an equally massive dose of Mana to keep it going so it can quickly kill him.


Appearance and clothing(pic and/or description):

Chief Whitegale

A powerful man, 5'11 in height with 210 pounds of thick rolling muscle. Despite being what could be considered old age in this age Thorg dedicates himself to keeping his body and mind fit. Being able to routinely match many of the remaining young warriors in his clan and overcome them.

His hair is thick and brown, but has streaks of gray going across his entire scalp. His eyes...well his good eye is an intimidating gray, but his left eyes is clouded white from an old injury from before the Skorne invasion. With scars a plenty to display Thorg can usually be found wearing a vest and trouser made of raptor feathers or armor made from the hide of a Brontosaurus glazed with amber. Like many of his clan he goes barefoot though unless the ground dictates otherwise across his back is a large tattoo in the shape of a Twister.

Weapons (limit of 3): Thorg carries three weapons with him at all times.

Stone Axe: The weapon in the picture, it's a heavy tool, but his years of training with have given him more than enough skill to make up for it's weight.

Obsidian machete: His most prized weapon, it was gift given him by the last Chief of the Blaze Clan. He had saved the man's life only to have him lose it a moonstime later. Thorg had much respect for the man and keeps this blade close at all times to remember his friend by.

Sling and stones: While he has always been a bit to big and clumsy to master the elegance of the bow and arrow, his strong arm and one good eye make him quite deadly with this leather sling and the flat river stones he hurls from it.

Armor: Armor slows him down in normal life, but when going into a battle he knows will be bad he straps on a suit made of Brontohide that protects him from many melee attacks and has been known to shrug of glancing Skorne bolts.

Special Gear: He carries a pouch for his slingstones and keeps a firemaking kit on him for dark nights.


Combat Abilities(limit of 4)

Brute: Thorg is a strong and aggressive fighter. He crushes enemies under mighty blows from his club.

Slinger: The Chief is deadly accurate at short distance with his sling and with enough time he can adapt his single eye to kill at greater range.

Chain-fighter: Thorg has a skill for chaining many attacks together in a blurring dance of death. Once he is on a roll it is hard to stop his wild and powerful strikes.

Planner: While decent at making plans on the fly, he much prefers to have things planned out before an operation is set into motion.

Mundane Abilities(limit of 3):

Hunter: A prevalent skill among the Twisters, Whitegale is a fair hunter even if he and old Broketooth are sometimes too slow to catch everything.

Firemaker and cook: A skill he thinks everyone should have. Thorg is skilled firemaker and a decent cook.

Wind-talking: How the Twister Clan communicates with each other over a fair distance. Using their power over the wind they can send whispered messages between hunting parties and war parties. While the optimum distance is only 100 yards, with enough time this range can extend to over 300, but more often than not after the 100 mark the message becomes too quiet and muddled to be very useful.


Dino(pic and/or description): An Achillobator named Broketooth

Mana Cannon(y/n): No

Armor and special gear: Broketooth is an old dino, and not as fast as he once was he wears a sturdy cloak of bone and leather armor along with Thorg's saddle and cargo bags.
Abilities(limit of 4):

Runner: Despite his age Broketooth is a very fast mover. He can cover a lot of ground in not a lot of time, but he can't make as quick turns like he used to.

Hunter: Being one of nature's most perfect hunters, Broketooth lives up to every aspiration expected of an Achillobator. Hunting in packs, disabling before killing, and fighting for his prey.

Strong arms and claws: The perfect tools for hunting or war, Broketooth's arms and claws can latch onto and hold nearly anything.

Senses: While dulled somewhat by age, Broketooth still has keen senses which have saved not only his life, but the life of his Alpha.


Personality: Thorg is a man of the people. He's humble, compassionate, and loyal to his people and wife, children, and grandchildren. He sees himself as a symbol as well as Chief, he had to be tough, he had to be level-headed, he had to put the Clan before himself. And while he would never show it, he had a painful feeling of being a caged beast, dancing for the smiles and applause but secretly yearning for the freedom of being a normal hunter in his tribe. It's a feeling every Twister has, they are children of the Wind and the Wind never likes being restricted.

Dino Personality: Broketooth has more of a lazy cat personality, he doesn't do much unless he really wants to or Thorg compels him. Much of the old Dino's day is spent hunting small animals and warming up in the sun. Unless the Twister children are playing around him, then he's more like a dog though, always watching for danger.

History

Thorg was born during a time of peace for the Nature Lords. The Forest Protectors were far inland undergoing one of their religious pilgrimages, the Mountain Diggers were far underground following a vein of metal, and the Shadow Stalkers were sleeping in the dark tunnels abandoned by the Mountain Diggers. Many had said this peace would last for ever the former Chief included.

Thorg's early years only had the barest teachings any youth would get. How to hunt, how to gather, and how to ride. Actually learning to fight and survive were far from their minds and the minds of the Elders. This lackadaisical ideal life wasn't meant to last though, Thorg was turning ten when this happened. A large comet had crashed into the plains and sent up clouds of dust that brought darkness and cold that covered the land, normally the flat plains with very little cover were left alone by the Shadow Stalkers who can't stand the sun. But with the arrival of the the seemingly endless night came the monsters mothers tell their children about so they don't go exploring caves or dark places.

It was only the paranoia of the elders that saved them from total slaughter. Sentries saw shadows moving through the gloom and even managed to sound the alarm before the monsters tore them to bits. Already on edge the clan's few hunters and warriors were ready in seconds and charged out to meet the Stalkers. Thorg hid in his parents' hut, but could hear everything going on outside. The howling wind of the Twisters' attacks meeting the snarls and gnashing teeth of the bulky Shadows as they fought against the Wind. Hiding under the hides his father skinned a few days ago the young boy sat for hours listening to the carnage as it ripped through the camp. He must've fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes again there was a profound silence. At first he thought he must've gone deaf, he could only feel the pumping of his heart in his ears. But as he crawled out of his hiding place he heard the rustling of his clothing and the hides as he moved. Moving slower than he ever had Thorg eventually poked his head out and saw the bloody and smoking battlefield illuminated by the sun trying to penetrate the clouds and the dying bodies of cooking fires.

The smell of death was horrendous and every step squished underfoot. He saw many dead Twisters, but more dead Shadow Stalkers, this made the boy smile, but the smile left when he saw his mother among the dead. She had squared off with a Shadow Stalker and managed to cleave the monster with it's own obsidian blade. Tears trickled down his young face, but the firm hand of this father steeled him and from that day the young man took a keen interest in training himself to be a fighter of the people. And he wasn't alone, the remaining elders decided they must never be caught unprepared like this again and with the Chief's backing changed the whole Twister Clan around building Warriors Father Wind would be proud of. They trained themselves then went on a march eliminating threats they first thought to leave well enough alone. Stalker Hives, Forester traps, and troublesome dinosaurs who might see to make a meal out of the Clan.

It was on one of these extermination raids that Thorg found Broketooth. He was a young alpha filled with fire and piss. Each member of the raid had one dino to seek and kill, and Broketooth was for Thorg. He had already earned his place as a skilled warrior and this was to be his last test of manhood. The young raptor was ready to kill and Thorg was ready to win, using his magic he kept the wild claws at bay and eventually clubbed Broketooth upside the head knocking him out and giving him his name because the final blow broke a tooth on the left side of the Dino's muzzle. From then on they were a deadly duo quickly becoming the top warriors and when the former Chief was killed in a Forest Protector ambush they became the leaders of the Twister Clan. All the tender age of 25 and on his 30th birthday he led his clan through the first of the Skorne incursions. And on the fourth decade of his life he is leading the last of the Wind Clans working to ensure they stay alive long enough to rebuild.

Other

"But Grandfather! The boys get to go play! Why can't we?" Says a brown-haired young girl standing in the middle of a dirt circle dressed in a short leather top and loincloth holding a staff limply in her dirty hand. Next to her was a slightly older girl with blond hair with a small bra and loincloth, her staff was resting on her narrow shoulder this girl was rubbing her sore jaw slowly. Her whines were directed at a large man seated on the ground with his back against the feathery flank of a large raptor.

The dino rumbled lazily as the man slowly working himself up to his feet using a larger staff to aid him. As he reached his full height and stabbed the blunt weapon into the dirt the two girls dropped their eyes and shrunk back a little as if expecting him to yell. But he never did, this was Chief Thorg Whitegale and learned long ago the gift of silence and soft speaking.
"The boys did their training this morning whilst you and Breeze went down with the other girls to the swimming hole. Now it is your turn young Swiftcloud, straighten your back and return to your side of the ring. And Breeze the more you rub that the quicker it will swell up, use your greater height to keep Swift from getting past your defense. Remember how young Zephyr Wild-Gust dealt with Windstorm when she was being forced into marriage."

He smiled seeing the storm return to his two Granddaughters' eyes. Like many young girls in the Twister Clan these two idolized Zephyr. She was the great warrior queen big sister they all wanted especially when some boys got to being too big for their trousers. He has been doing what he can to keep infighting down, but it was a fine line to walk as Chief. You can't show more favor to one side over the other it was his teetering off that line that actually led to the debacle of Zephyr's marriage. The clan still had too few members and many girls were expected to find a husband and start forming families as soon as they were able which was thirteen years of life. After the fallout from that Thorg throttled back on the policy and let the young ones choose what to do. Some still married and became very good mothers and fathers, while others like Zephyr continued training to be warriors and hunters. The young girls returned to their sides of the training ring and stretched a little waiting for his command.

Crossing his arms he looked out across the camp to make sure no trouble was coming their way, before looking between his granddaughters and gave a short bark.
"Fight!"

Lord Ra-Ja of the Red Tooth Clan

Name: Lord Ra-Ja of the Red Tooth Clan
Age: 110
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Ra-Ja

One of the many tribes of a humanoid reptilian like race called the Dolg Gramar. Ra-Ja is rather impressive for one. He has dark olive skin full of smooth scales and long fangs and nails. Unlike the rest, he resembles a dragon, be it by the structure of his skull, or his golden eyes, it is a thing which is considered to be not only beautiful among his kind, but also somewhat majestic. He also have a strong long tail which he can use to fight or support himself. He is nearly 8 feet tall and weighs well over 600 pounds.

Race: Dolg Gramar
Occupation: Berserker and leader of the Red Tooth Clan


Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Animal Might: Ra-Ja is extremely strong, tough, quick, and his claws and teeth are very strong.

Amphibian: He is able the breath and move under water well.

Enhanced Senses: Ra-Ja has an excellent sense of smell, hearing, and sight.

Tail: The Berserker's tail is prehensile and very strong.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Berserker: Ra-Ja is a trained Berserker. As such he has control over his rage and can enter a state of mind that increase both his power and speed and make him highly resistant to pain. While injuries that make it past his Black Mythril armor can kill him, the pain they bring can be ignored while his Rage is peaked.

Heavy Warrior: Lord Ra-Ja is a master of Melee combat and of fighting in heavy armor. Two-handed swords are his forte.

Tactical: When not lost in the throes of rage, Ra-Ja is a tactician of great skill and renown. He is known for thinking outside of the box and surprising foes with unpredictable victory.

Control: Coming from years of being a Berserker and being a Lord of a Clan, Ra-Ja has a level of both physical and mental control that can rival many of the world's Martial Arts Masters.

Beast: When Ra-Ja needs to he can use his enhanced senses, teeth, claws, and tail to hunt down and fight his foes.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Death: A huge sword named Death, has a sentient Demonic Spirit of Wrath residing in the blade that is constantly trying to take over Ra-Ja's body.

Redemption: A Messer long sword taken from a battlefield long ago.


Armor(one sensible suit of armor): He is covered with dark armor from head to toe, yet his skull and tail are bare. The armor consists of a very strong Black Mythril which is not easily damaged.

Equipment: Ra-Ja doesn't carry much outside of his weapon and armor. But he has found a pair of bandannas and an iron cross that he gathered in his travels. The bandanas are tied around his biceps and the cross is around his neck.

Personality: Lord Ra-Ja is a savage warrior through and through, but he is noble about it. As much as his battle style is one without rules, he still respects the need of the weak to be on their feet before charging again. Even with his memories locked away from him Ra-Ja remembers the noble side that comes with being a leader. He will not strike those he views as weak, some would say this makes him arrogant and they wouldn't be wrong, but his arrogance doesn't carry over to enemies he sees as worthy. Those few get the full measure of his combat prowess. 

Likes: Red meat, fighting, winning, surviving, recovering his memories, and keeping Death at bay.
Dislikes: Being hungry, sitting still, losing, dying, never gaining his memories and losing his control over Death.

Background: With much of his memories stolen from him by some kind of black magic and Death's influence Ra-Ja only knows snippets of his past. He was a Lord of the Dolg Gramar, Chief of the Red Teeth, and general to the King of the Gramar. He knows how to fight and how to use his anger as a weapon, and he knows the name and face of his wife, Ra-Keely.

He also knows that his entire clan was slaughtered before his very eyes and he was unable to stop it from happening. For all his power and combat skill he wasn't able to stop dark riders from rumbling into their clanlands one night and killing nearly everyone in their sleep and those few who were able to mount a defense were quickly cut down in the charge of heavy slizards each with a black scaled lizardman astride its back. He was stunned by some kind of explosion and left to watch wide-eyed as his wife and children were killed, not even Death's rage could bring him to move...the trauma was too great.

With much of his past gone the only memories he can recall are ones of recent history. His journey through the many lands fighting many foes and discovering more about his past. Eventually he will find the architects of his misery and pain and destroy them like they tried to destroy him time and again.

Other: His wife's name is Ra-Keely and eventually he will learn the names of his children.

[Wilderness Soul]

Back with some more ideas and characters to drop, I am looking for just one more RP so let's see what comes up!

First up, I'll be posting some more story ideas!

A couple new raving desires.

Ravings +2

Tamriel Adventure: Dusted off my copy of Skyrim today and had a fun idea. Two adventurers, possibly one of them being a Hireling or Housecarl. Out in the chilly and wooly wilds of the Skyrim or Tamriel and possibly lands beyond. MxF pairing and likely a long term RP, not much planned beyond playing the games through the written word and adding our own spins to things. Open to all kinds of pairings and races that call the Elder Scrolls games home.

Glory to Scotland: I'm sure most of us have seen or heard of the movie Braveheart and some may even have deeper knowledge of Scotland's wars for independence in the late 13th century- early 14th century. For me this is one of the few historical settings I WOULD LOVE TO PLAY IN! But not as a word for word recount of history, that; while important, wouldn't be quite as much fun as doing a little alt history. Now this could be a very wide range of ideas and settings, from people in the actual day fighting and winning independence until the modern day, or maybe a time traveler or two akin to the Outlander TV series(albeit in a different time than the Jacobite Rising, although that could be fun too) Could even be a fantasy take on it where the Scots and English are simply pawns of a greater Fae conspiracy and our chars set out to bring down the Fae that has been playing fast and loose with the lives or mortals or the classic war of Vampires vs Lycans. Might even be a fit for a futuristic world with some brainstorming.

Now, a couple new ideas for Ruminations

Ruminations + 2

Classic Fantasy Romp: As basic an idea as could be. The tried and true fantasy adventure where two young and hapless explorers get themselves some old armor and secondhand swords then took off for whatever fortune and glory their wanderlust brings them. But as they soon find out it's not like their dreams. It's rough, hard, and stinks vaguely of urine, but they can't go back home until they've made it.

Now from there it can start and go anywhere. MC is a wannabe young knight full of piss and vinegar, YC is a studious but distracted young Witch leaving her coven for the first time to find a mate? Boom we can make it work.

Or MC and YC were childhood friends and royals set to be wed? But continued tension between their parents kingdoms resulted in them being ripped apart and forced to grow up and run away before everything is burned down only to find each other years later under their fake names and pick up that vague childish bond they both knew and loved? Can totally happen.

Open to all kinds of ideas for this one.

Fight Club: Like many kids of the late 90s early 2000s I really liked the movie Fight Club. The blood, the sweat, the light-hearted destruction of corporate America XD. It played to my grunge side at the time and recently I've been thinking how interesting would that be as an RP. Or at the very least as a premise for one, down-trodden and misguided young people beating the snot out of each other in dirt filled basements and dirty parking lots in the middle of the night. Now the destruction of corporate America can be involved, but I would much rather take a little page from Jean-Claude Van Damme's movie Lionheart here and focus on the lives of just two people. Maybe both are fighters from a Men's Club and Women's Club respectively and they are simply drawn to each other with animal like lust and drag each other through the hell that is their lives outside of the ring?

Or maybe it'll be a manager and a fighter forming a taboo bond that pits them against the whole underground fighting world and they're in a race against time to bring down a powerful Crime Boss(male or female) bent on some fuckery?

Plenty more ideas could run with this.

And lastly, some more Requiem inspirations

Requiem +2

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a_CuFxpTWyU&list=PLWxWJ3K6XkxIjnjEm0loVn7ZbKFvT3gkA&index=1

Jazz, always a favorite music of those lost in the night and in search of some peace and quiet, or just a dive to drown themselves in for a few hours. Could be taking place in the 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, or maybe more modern day or far future setting, but no matter the time the story always remains the same. When two ships cross in the night only the black and every mysterious sea knows how it'll end. Will they fight, will they flee, or will they crash together fleeing from unspeakable crimes of passion find themselves sinking faster and faster beneath the unforgiving waves?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vnl4ryyGkSQ&list=PLWxWJ3K6XkxIjnjEm0loVn7ZbKFvT3gkA&index=4

If a world ended and there was no one around to hear it would it make a sound? In fact would their be any sound if all life as you know it was done and you were the single remaining thing left wandering the nothingness of a world at the end of his existence? Possibly only weeks away from being engulfed in fire as the sun turned into a red giant? Or hopping over cracks in the ground as the earth is slowly being ripped apart by uncontrollable earthquakes? Or maybe things just died off and you're simply waiting for your turn, but one day you find you aren't alone in fact this other person looks to be your age and suddenly there is hope that more are around? Doesn't hurt they're attractive and of the opposite gender so at least you can maybe knock some carbon off.

But in a world so dead can you even trust your own senses?

This has a slightly better built idea than my other ones. One of our chars is a wandering survivor and the other someone who lucked out and hunkered down in a sturdy building sending out radio signals looking for others. Or both could be survivors pushed together out of necessity rather than love or affection yet learn these more tender feelings from a more tender time as they scrap together some kind of life among the ruins of the old world.

Next I'll be adding some characters one in particular is a special one that I have plans to make the narrator of some stories I'll post on the site somewhere, but he'll be open to being in an RP with a good story to work with. And he'll be at the top of the OP.

The King of the Pumpkin Patch

Name: Anam Fàsach, though only he knows that name most simply call him the King of the Pumpkin Patch.
Age: Ageless
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description): Though his appearance changes as it needs to, the below are what could be called his most used appearances.

Pumpkin King Form

This is his most used appearance. A tall, stocky figure with a glowing Jack'O'Lantern head dressed in a long black coat, black boots, and what looks like modern black body armor. Most modern appearance and the least frightening of his three main forms.

Rambler Form

Mostly used when wandering the world when he needs to blend in among humans and other races who might not appreciate The Grim or Pumpkin King appearances. Scarecrows can pop up in anything that looks like a field and be ignored. Shorter, but wider than the King form and appears to be made of wood for lightness and ease of travel over long distances. The lanterns burn with a fire that never goes out.

Grim Form

Often called the Grim Grinner this is his most frightful form. Being an avatar of death at the core of his nature this form is arguably his "true" form. Extremely tall and very thin clad once more in all black, but adorned with discolored rages and bones that hang about him like totems. The oddity of this form lies in either his inability or unwillingness to speak while in it.

It add further credence that this is his true form as his true voice is that of death itself any who hear it drop dead instantly.

Race: Eternal
Job: Guardian of the lost and frightened.

Racial Skills and Abilities: Anam's powers are tied to his lantern/scythe and the flame inside of it changes colors with whatever power he is using.

Shapeshifting(Green Flame): His most used skill, once it's activated he can morph himself into any shape in nature he was seen. But can only mimic living organisms.

Fire(White Flame): His most basic, but also most powerful ability. Used to dispatch evil entities and purge the area around it. The fire seems to be hot enough to melt even bone and metal to ash, but unless you are right in the flame you feel no heat or pain.

Illusion(Blue Flame): Rarely used, but always effective. Once this ability is activated he can trick the senses of anyone he is targeting. Used mostly to try and scare his opponent's away before the fight even starts or used to intimidate a creature that is threatening an innocent.

Strength(Red Flame): Another basic spell though often used in combination with the other powers to augment them as the Red Flame strengthens not only his physical strength, but also the power of his mana and spells.

Invisibility(Purple Flame): Used primarily to make his long distance travels easier without the need for altering forms very often. Invisibility also covers the other markers of his existence right down to smell and the noise his footsteps make.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Storyteller: Being immortal can be quiet boring so when he has the time he likes to gather whatever stories he can find and often revels in retelling them to a new audience.

Polearm master: What is his pole with an unbreakable metal lantern swinging from an enclosed hook if not a polearm like weapons. This skill is maximized when he shifts it to his grim scythe, but is also masterful with any polearm weapon he picks up.

Precognition: The way he finds trouble to deal with. Blessed by mother nature to see the danger before it comes. Able to plan his wanderings so he hits every scene of trouble oftentimes before it even happens.

Teleportation: The only way to travel for an Immortal Scarecrow Guardian. Though the skill isn't an exact ability he can usually land within a few meters of his destination.

Moon's eye: Anam is linked to the moon above even on nights where it cannot be seen. And he can use it's huge unblinking eye to watch the world around him in real time. No one is sure if this is it's own skill or simply an extension of Precognition, but he often uses the two in concert with each other.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons): He carries a glowing lantern on a long pole. The Lantern changes colors with whatever power he is using. The lantern changes to a reaper's scythe in Grim form, but still glows with the internal fire.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): None

Equipment: None

Personality: Anam is a quiet and reserved creature. Though capable of laughter and joy he was long carried the burden of his duty upon eons weary shoulders. He is a protector through and through, but with such powers that he has comes the downside of immortality. He is cursed with never being able to find meaning beyond his station or settle down with a loved on.

When seen out in the world the viewer can easily see by the sag of his shoulders and heavy sighing of his chest that he is resigned to his fate only barely keeping a coal of love and affection burning in his heart holding out against hope for an end to his lonely vigil or at the very least someone to be lonely with.

Likes: The Fall, the moon, the stars, his pumpkin patch, and protecting people.

Dislikes: People who hurt the innocent, his eternal loneliness, and animals that try to eat the gourds in his pumpkin patch.

Background: Anam Fàsach, created by nature for this purpose and this purpose alone. He has no childhood, no fond memories of when he might've been human to keep him occupied through the many years of his occupation as the Autumnal Guardian. One of the many spirits and entities that predate the modern world and have seen the rise and falls of countless species and people. The people of the Primeval Arcana, the fall of the dinosaurs, the rise of the golden guardians, their fall to the silver savages and their eventual fall to the humans of Atlantis then the Atlantians earning the ire of the gods above were forced underground to become the strange and glowing Inkkin. The rise of both primitive and modern man and the great many falls they have endured during their very short time on the mortal plane.

He and the other Eternals have always watched the comings and goings of mortals. As personifications of nature the Eternals have only ever known the life of immortality and power. But Mother Nature has lain all kinds of barriers throughout the natural world trying to keep the Immortals from enslaving the mortals as other immortals were want to do. They were tasked as protectors along side the likes of Drago's Children and the many factions of humans set on protecting their species...more times than not from themselves. For Anam and his kin though they were content to let the Youngers police themselves as a whole focusing instead upon protecting a sphere of their choosing and for the Pumpkin King he chose protecting those lost in the forests and wild lands from the things that go bump in the night.

Eons passed with him doing his duty to the fullest of his abilities and aside from a few times during the many wars of the mortal realm, he rarely thought of anything else. But even Guardians like him feel the weight of time if enough of it begins piling up and Anam had a tremendous number of years sitting heavily on his shoulders. Soon he began warring with himself, his sense of duty fighting with his weariness of the world and it's hoplessness. Neither losing ground, but neither gaining it either. He often picture it like two opposing armies being unable to maneuver around the other so they remained evenly matched on the plane of his tormented mind. But without Mother Nature releasing him from his bond herself there is nothing he could do. He wanders freely about the world protecting and reflecting. Never needing to rest, eat, or drink, nothing but the road beneath his feet and the endless blanket of night above him.

Other: Being a naturally thoughtful and morose creature he often comes up with poems or stories to amuse the madness within his head and gain a small piece of quiet from the constantly warring voices in his head. And this is one poem he repeats, especially when out hunting down evil.

Through blind eyes I watch you.
With a still mouth I curse you to your grave.
With stiff arms and legs I follow you across the land.
With no sorrow or guilt I rip away all you desire.
I am there haunting your every thought and feeling.
Wherever you go look behind for that's where I will always be.
I am the Bogeyman in your nightmares.
I am the Guardian of the Night...the King of the Pumpkin Patch...I am here to take away the fears of all you threaten.

Wraith Draxer Ripinger

Name: Draxer Ripinger

Appearance: He stands a towering 10'5 feet tall which even by Stalker  standards is tall, he weighs a stacked 568 lbs all muscle, his skin is a  black green in color and his spikes are short and curved another unique  trait by Stalker standards.

He is dressed in the raiment of a Wraith, the general of the Fearstalker army. A badge of office made of gold with three long scratches on the front and his cloak and tunic are black with red fringe with the same symbol as his badge on the back. Pitch black armor covers his shins, legs, torso and arms with the emblems of his king on them, blood red  eyes inside a purple outlined triangle. He forgoes a helmet not liking  how it limits his vision and hearing. He carries a pair of long curved  swords very much like cutlasses across his back. The claws on his hands and feet are bare giving him free range of motion to attack.

Age: 1,203 years old

Abilities: Enhanced strength, speed, agility, amazing stealth and senses ability to turn invisible, resistant to  disease and poison, natural night vision.


Skills: Master of Warfare and Psychology.   
Highly skilled in Mind and Dark Magic that helps to aid him in his hunting for prey.
Master of unarmed and melee combat. Trained from birth in it by his father the last Wraith.

Personality: Rough but cordial when it's needed he doesn't trust anyone  in the Nobility, not from the dumbest grunt to the warlock himself but  he keeps his distrust to himself most of the time.  He knows they all  felt the same way about him and that's the way he likes it, he needed  them to work together though so he puts on a face of general respect. He  has a twisted sense of honor another thing his father taught him,  respect every enemy no matter how small and never attack the unarmed.

Background: Drax war born the last son of the former Wraith of the Fearstalker army. Graxigor Ripinger, average in appearance, but with a mind and magical ability that could rival the King and Queen themselves. But this was to be expected as Graxigor was the brother of Queen Hisiga. Yes for but a simple twist of fate Drax could've been the hereditary King of his people in his later years, still even if his cousin would become King before him he was destined for a duty arguably greater than that of King.

He was set to be his father's successor. Being big for his age Drax fully embraced his destiny, war is the Stalker way of life. Even the commoners and artisans due two tours in the Grand Shadow Army. That way should the need arise the entire Fearstalker race could rally and destroy those which threaten them. Such an event has only happened once since their race crawled from the darkness of Lord Azzarox's blood as he fought with Helios for dominance over the realms of the Sky River.

The match was a draw and the land was split in two each favored people of their warriors taking one bank. Helios and his Sunfighter follows took the lush and fertile side calling it the Day Sky River. While Azzarox and his army of Fearstalkers dove under the bank taking the caverns and controlling the veins of Mana that swirling through out them. They called their land the Night Sky River and have been living there ever since. Azzarox's first son Rasokald, became the Grand Wraith and from him the traditions of Fearstalker battle and warfare grew. And Draxer would be another master warrior to carry on the title. He's fought many wars in his over 1200 years of life, some even with the survival of existence hanging in the balance, but he was victorious in each one and when his father passed he was on the fast track to continue his legacy. But like everything else among the Fearstalker people he still needed to earn the title, thus he embarked upon the quest to seek Azzarox's tomb. Many other skilled and prominant Stalkers partook in the quest, but Draxer was the only one to succeed. He spent a full year in total darkness before the Fearstalker god's carved effigy listening to the madness of the night to hear his God's words deeming him worthy of the title his father had honorably held for so long. Delirious from lack of food or magic sustaining fear drinking only the few sporadic streams of water that seeped so far into the earth he was on the verge of death when Azzarox finally spoke to him. Filled with the Abyss Lord's darkness Draxer found himself revitalised and with the glowing eyes of the Wraith piercing the shadows all around him.

He returned to his people a hero and chosen by divine rite to lead the army as the newest Wraith and so he has served for many centuries, never wavering from his duty, but also never trying to secure his legacy and find a female of his own so someday he would have a child that could keep the tradition of the Ripinger clan going.

Iolaire-Sealgair

Name: Iolaire-Sealgair (translates to eagle hunter in the ancient Albanach tongue)
Age: 32
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Iolaire and Dubhar

Like any spawn birthed from two warrior races Iolaire is a bear of man. 6'11 and weighing a mighty 280 pounds of thick cold resistant muscle. His hair is the color of fresh bark and his eyes burn with the cyan glow of Albain's purest skies.

His ever present companion and oldest friend is his Dire Eagle Dubhar(translates to Shade in the ancient tongue). A bird both large and imposing with feathers of dark brown and eyes of vibrant amber and tipping the scales at 40 inches tall, weighing in at 15 pounds with a wingspan of 7 feet.

Iolaire's outfit usually consists of the above, a sturdy mix of scale mail armor on his shoulders and studded leather covering his torso. His gauntlets are also studded leather and lined with fine rabbit fur to ward off the cold in the north. He wears modified iron greaves on his thighs and his boots are metal shined leaving his knees free to move with ease they are also rabbit fur lined. He often has a bear fur cloak draped about his shoulders and the Visigoth raid flag his father and mother bedded on when they conceived him is wrapped about his neck like a scarf.  He also carries a bone fetish carved in the shape of a soaring eagle. He wears it at all times, keeping the amulet under his armor and always close to his heart.

Race: Half breed, his father was an Albanach warrior and his mother was a Visigoth Raider. A more violent coupling the Gods couldn't imagine.

Job: Big game hunter

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4)

Magical Resistance: An ability of unknown origin, but something the allows Iolarie to tank magic spells offensive ones and buffers. While not unheard among his people is extremely rare.

Powerful: Genetics, living a hard life, and hunting animals big enough to kill him in one blow. Iolaire is a bear of a man, both in strength and durability.

Swift Hunter: Much like a Sabercat he can move quickly over short distances, but his size makes it hard to be a marathon runner.

Keen Eyes: A natural skill he mastered over the years the man has very good eyes and can see decently enough in the dark.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Ranger: His skillset, his lifestyle, living in the wilds and learning the thrill of the hunt.

Tracker: Able to find and follow tracks under any conditions and go with it for many miles.

Primitive Hunter: Using long metal tipped spears and darts and an elk antler atlatl. Iolaire is deadly accurate and able to drop mammoths from one hundred yards.

Falconry: While not using a falcon, Iolaire still uses the same techniques with his Dire Eagle, Dubhar.

Leather working: Able to skin, tan, and work with leather to make things like armor, clothes, saddles, etc.


Weaknesses: While Iolaire is man of the wilds with great skill in woodcraft and survival he has no formal training  or even any real knowledge in the Scholarly pursuits many associate with a "civilized society" He cannot read or write, nor can he look at a mathematical problem on a sheet of paper and be able to make heads or tails of it. He has no artistic understanding or cultured opinions on politics or fashion. He speaks bluntly and with no skill in the finer points of speechcraft he often steps over an invisible line that calls for him to rectify the problem with his fist. He is not stupid, but all his skills are born from surviving and word of mouth. He also lacks a cultured tongue and accent, living his whole life in Albain means he wields the thick northern accent like a warhammer rushing past others in a desire to get his thoughts out first before he becomes confused with the flow of conversation.

He knows full well his intellectual limitations and it has often made him into the fool when he tries to respond properly to something and it comes out wrong causing others to mock and force him to step back before he hurts anyone. The burning pride of both the Albanacha, and the Visigot smoulders forever in the man's heart and it stops him from asking for aid in the fields he is weakest in.

And lastly his biggest weakness would be his temper. Even with a better control of it in his late twenties that fiery dragon is always just under the surface waiting for a single chain to break before it rends it's cage asunder and rains pain down upon the offender and those around him. This rage is quick and devastating, he has been known to break the necks of horses and splinter the walls of wooden houses when in the throes of his anger. And short of killing him, there is no way to quell it, all that can be done is run and hide until he comes down on his own.

As is always the effect of a man's anger, guilt and regret follow close on the heels of a rage. He is brought face to face with the pain and suffering he has wrought each and every time. Angry mobs chase him into the wilds and force him deeper and deeper into isolation. With that isolation comes a certain lucidity of madness. He stares into the abyss for hours feeling the utmost sadness for his actions, but he lacks the ability to end his own life. So he chooses to try and focus that regret into hunting and surviving doing what he can to keep his mind off it.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Atlatl and hunting darts: His primary hunting tools the atlatl itself is two feet long and the darts themselves are about a foot long apiece and tipped with hardened metal heads.

Boar Spear: A stout spear about as long as his arm from shoulder to middle finger tip and topped with a hefty black metal barbed head.

Hunting Knife: Like his spear his hunting knife is made of a strong black steel. Razor sharp cutting edge with a saw back and thick blunted pommel.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): The thick studded leather armor in the image.

Equipment: Fire-making tools, leather working tools, dart and spear maintenance tools, thick bedroll, trapping tools, his heavy bear fur cloak.

Personality: Upon first glance fear is often the thing someone feels when looking upon the large Ranger. His unsmiling face, his steady brooding eyes, the square and defensive way he keeps his broad shoulders pulled back, as if waiting for death to come calling after him. Everything lends towards an air of a hard fought life and the unspeakable cruelty of the far north.

And those initial feelings are not wrong, a life of isolation will leave anyone grim faced and cheerless. Iolaire is one such case, but he is not an emotionless block of ice as many would expect. He simply wishes to take each step carefully, born with a most savage of tempers the Ranger has spent much of his solitary life trying to keep himself in check. Because death often follows when red crosses his eye and his anger wins out.

With only Dubhar and the occasional traveler he has traded with for companionship, Iolaire is a private man. He has a kind disposition towards animals of all kinds and a knack for calming them should they get upset. Women fascinate him to the point of distraction at times. He has had enough contact with them to know what to expect, but even then he mostly just watches them from a distance and lets them make the first move.

Faith: Having been raised among the Albanacha, Iolaire follows their faith of harmony with nature. In particular he is a follower of the Way of the Eagle. He still carries the amulet he got from the old man that saved him, pulling it out when he is alone and chanting softly asking the Eagle to guide him. The Way of the Eagle is a belief system that man must follow three paths or "ways" to reach a point of true harmony with himself and the world around him. The Ways are, the Way of the Warrior which is the physical plane, the Way of the Hunter which is the mental plane, and lastly is the Way of the Leader which is the Spiritual plane. As of now Iolaire has mastered the Way of the Warrior and is skilled in the Way of the Hunter, but he has only just begun upon the Way of the Leader.



Likes: Women, meat, the cold, sunrise, hot mead, and the wilderness .

Dislikes: Southerners, the heat, the night, tea, cities, and losing his prey.

History

Iolaire's origins are as coated in blood as his present life. He was born from a three day tryst between Chalmers, a Albanaigh warrior and Gudrun, a Visigoda raider from the sea. His father Chalmers was part of a militia created to combat the ongoing raids from Goth. He and his men had the raiders pinned down and were readying a final assault on their encampment when a storm of legend blew in from the sea. Both sides were tossed into chaos and any thoughts of war were quickly dispelled as most of the raiders fled to their ships to try and sail through the icy winds and the warriors ran for the protection of the many caves along the coast.

By some sick twist of fate Iolaire's parent wound up using the same cave for protection. Like a Sabercat and Direwolf being locked into the same room together the two warriors fought themselves bloody. Exchanging blow for blow until they sunk into a battleborn lust and passion. Using Gudrun's signal flag as a bed they coupled well into the night. The storm ravaged the coast for three days seeking out and destroying both the raiders on their ships and the militiamen squatting in the caves. Almost all fell to the rage of the blizzard, all but the man and woman huddling together besides a natural hot springs deep in a cave to the East. Feeling a carnal love and mutual lust for one another, they continued to couple and at the end of the third day when the storm had finally dissipated. Gudrun was shown a dream of motherhood and knew right then she was with child.
Chalmers had a dream as well. Only this one showed a dark cloud was hanging over the child's soul and if it was allowed to live it would kill them both in a thunderous rage. He kept this from Gudrun though, maybe the spirits were playing tricks on him for bedding a Visigoda "whore". When the storm passed the couple fled into the wilds and stayed there for the nine months needed for their son to come full term. He was born strong and healthy, but also under a cold moonless night with thick black clouds hanging overhead. Chalmers replayed the dream in his head and knew this waif would be the one to kill them in the years to come. But his woman was glowing with motherly energy and he couldn't bring himself to ruin it for her. He remembered the stories she told about the children she had lost in the past. For a year they raised the boy, but as soon as he was weaned from Gudrun's breast Chalmers  wrapped the boy in his mother's raid flag and stole him away one night. He left the sleeping child beneath a Faerie tree as a way to appease the little folk and ask them spare him and his mate from the death he knew would come to pass.

The night was cold and wet, but it was not the night destined to bring about the end of Iolaire. He remained comfortable and safe in the roots of the Fae tree the thick fabric of the raid flag shielding him and by morning an old Shaman had found him and rescued the wailing child. For five years the old man raised him, teaching him the ways of the Albanach and giving him the name Iolaire-Sealgair. The man taught him the way of the spear, the knife, and the hunt, but it was only temporary. The old man who Iolaire never learned the name of died one warm summer night. Age had caught him, and then fate decided to raise the child itself. Wild and free under the skies and unchecked in all aspect of life, Iolaire knew only his name, his hunting skills, and the Eagle amulet Shaman had given him with his last breath. For many this would've spelt the end, but the anger his parents feared gave him the edge he needed to fight the wild animals, so for fifteen more years he let the rage be his best weapon against the claws of death. He caused a great many troubles for the villages in the shadow of the mountain where he lived. Using his eagle to pillage and hunt and his massive size and power to terrorize farmers, he was the bane of peace everywhere. That is until he angered a powerful Bann and felt the man's wrath come crashing down upon his head like a wave from the coast. He escaped with his life, but the injuries taught him a lesson he had never been taught before, consequences come for those who bring havoc.

At age twenty he decided to turn over a new leaf and try to control his anger. It didn't always work, but eventually he managed to go a few years without losing it. He traded meat and hides for things he needed and generally stayed out of everyone's' way. The Ranger seemed to finally find peace giving thanks to the spirits for it all along the way, that is until his twenty-sixth winter. He had made a fair pile of coin capturing and taming a rare white stag for Bann Rindar, the man had been tracking the beast for years and believed it to be proof his rule was ordained by nature since his banner was the rampart white stag on a field of deep green. Many men, the Bann included had failed to catch the large beast getting just close enough to see it's burning red eyes before it vanished like smoke into the elder wood.
Word of Iolaire's skill came to the Bann's ears and the man was so obsessed with the stag he was willing to forgive the wild hunter's past crime if he could capture that which the Bann valued most.
With a reward like that it was impossible for Iolaire to say no. Packing up everything he would need the Ranger began the most important hunt of his life, the hunt for his redemption. For many months he tracked the Stag over vale and dale, across moors, and up ragged peaks. He caught it at midnight besides the very Faerie tree that sheltered him after his father abandoned him. Of course he didn't know this at the time, he just saw his prey and lunged. He crashed into the animal and the two of them scuffled for a few minutes until the white deer leapt at Iolaire and sent him crashing through the old tree destroying it in the process, but the loose soil made for unsure footing and the stag fell allowing the hunter to muzzle it and jump upon it's back. The two males fought throughout the night, the stag using all it's might to try and toss the giant man from it's back and Iolaire wrapping his thick arms around the creature's neck holding on with all of his own considerable strength.

It was the early stages of dawn when the Stag finally reached it's end and laid down in defeat. Iolaire let out a triumphant bellow and wrapped the gold inlaid rope the Bann had provided around the stag's neck and tied it to a large oak tree nearby. They rested for a few hours, then the Ranger began leading his prize back to the village. There the Bann and his men greeted him with praise and fanfare allowing the hunter to walk the great white stag right through the gates of Rindar's Keep. There the Bann gave Iolaire his word that all his crimes were forgiven and a sack of gold to spend as he wished. This looked to be the happiest day of the big man's life and he was on his way to the local inn to enjoy some of the Innkeeper's famous mead and roasted pig.
The people there were warm and inviting, Iolaire was already enjoying his new fame, sadly the wild man had spent too much time in the forests and wasn't up on all the gossip surrounding the Bann. Rindar was a cruel and vindictive man, he was also one of the people Iolaire had wronged in one his rages. Iolaire had killed the Bann's prized hunting hounds a few years back and ever since Rindar has been trying to exact his revenge, but Iolaire was too good at hiding in the woods for anyone to find him so the Bann needed to convince the recluse to show himself.

And that is when he decided to combine the two things he wanted most. The White Stag and Iolaire-Sealgair's head, it was just good fortune he managed to convince the dimwitted hunter to catch the deer for him. But now with the Stag in his clutches he was ready to kill and make an example of the huntsman. Eagle Hunter was well into his cups when the Bann stormed into the inn and had Iolaire arrested. He was then dragged out into the street to be executed. Too drunk to fight back at the moment the Ranger looked on in a daze as four men grabbed him and carried him away from the warmth of the inn and tossed him into the muddy street outside. He saw the Bann through a haze and could only hear his words as a fuzzy whining. He didn't know what was going on, but as he saw the bright glint of a headsman's axe in the firelight of the mob's torches his instincts told him he had been betrayed and his rage told him the time had come to fight. Red blurred his vision and the city of Rindale became bloody that night.

He does not know how long he was in this blind rage and he still doesn't know exactly how many met their end at his hand. His next memory after the inn was in the southern parts of Albain carrying his hunting equipment, his cloak, armor, the flag scarf and his eagle. His hands were still bruised and swollen and a large cut around the back of his neck had been hastily mended with a bit of linen. Still to this day that entire night is lost to him. He wandered for a year hopping the first boat to the Khoran Isles where he hoped he would be far enough away from the anger of Bann Rindar's retainers. No one cared for your crimes in this haven for pirates and cowards, as long as you watched your back and kept your head down you'd be fine.
He found odd jobs hunting and did some manual labor, putting his massive size to use when game was scarce. It was during one of these manual labor jobs that Iolaire came across a bloated Sarbai slave master and a pale skinned Shenkai slave woman. Iolaire was simply wishing to eat a quiet dinner by himself when the man arrived all perfume and gaudy robes, he was drunk and tossing coins all around the bar buying up tables for his many "friends".

The Highlander was used to pitiful displays like this. And most times he would simply finish his meal as quickly as possible and leave, but the Slave Master moved quicker than the Huntsman could eat. He had bought and seated every table in the spacious inn, and he had taken a fancy to the table by the fireplace for his own, but Iolaire had claimed it first the warmth helped soothe the aches in his back from lifting heavy crates onto ships all day. He was doing his best to be done and go home, but the Sarbian's lack of patience wouldn't allow it.

He approached Iolaire and sneered.
"Begone sheep shagger, your betters require this table."

Finishing his mouthful of food Iolaire began voicing an apology, but one of the Slaver's guards stepped up and swept the remnants of the hunter's food from his table shattering them against the floor and wall. Sealgair could feel the anger stirring so he quickly stood and tried to move away, but that same guard swung at the giant's head with his club. It connected with a resounding thud, but the impact forced the man to drop his broken club and stagger back. Iolaire didn't see red, but no attack on him would go unpunished. The attacker's arm was grabbed and broken before Iolaire spun in a circle ripping the limb from its socket and sending the guard into the stone mantle above the fireplace. The second guard then tried to come to his comrade's aid but was kicked squarely in the chest and sent through the railings of the stairs. The last man standing between the cowering Slave Master and the massive Albanaigh was grabbed around his throat and hefted several feet off the floor before being smashed through the very table Iolaire had been sitting at.

With his guards so easily dispatched and the rest of his party too stunned to act the black bearded man dropped to his pudgy knees and tried to bargain with the Highlander for his life.
"Please, good warrior it was just in jest. My men didn't mean to offend you! Please spare my life we'll be on our way! I...I'll even give you my newest servant, Mizia! She's a young nubile thing, a touch on the small side, but of Shenkai stock! She can cook, she can dance, and you know what they say about those warrior women...right? Lovers with endless stamina and known for producing strong sons and daughters! Everything a great Albanaigh warlord could want in a woman!" The man even called the girl over for the big man to look at. Iolaire loomed over the quaking man, the very idea of slavery sickened him. All people should be free, by rights he should crush this bastard's skull and free all of his servants, but he could already hear the Slave Master's other men plucking up their courage to attack him, the giant did not wish to fight any more this night. So he took the woman's contract and ripped it to shreds freeing her before making his way through the tavern to the road. He had done his good deed for the day, what happened to the woman next was out of his hand.

Zeke Edge

Name: Zeke Edge
Age: 28
Gender: Male

Job: Farmer/ Survivor

Class: Hunter

Appearance: 

The Man

Zeke is an extremely fit man 185 pounds of hard earned muscle and 5'8. When working the farm he's wearing old blue jeans, a white-tank-top, and when needed an old leather coat.

Though when out in the wilds he is clothed in thick tan pants, a warm field jacket with a hood, wool finger-less gloves, tac-vest, and heavy brown combat boots. 

Personality: Zeke...doomsday prepper, man of the wild, the type of person who can either shape the world for the better...or burn it down to see if the flames are a different color. Maniacal, outspoken, and about as eloquent and delicate as a three legged Ox.

He's lived on the edge of society his entire life with only people like him to interact with. Few social graces but with a somewhat animal magnetism about him. It's hard to look away from Zeke if for no other reason than to see if he kills himself juggling flaming meat cleavers.


Strengths

Extremely Fit: Gotta be ready to run from the zombies or dropkick your way into a house. Always moving and having been raised on a farm has blessed with a body ready to the long haul.

Master of the Land: From camping, to hunting, to farming, to making tools. Zeke is most at home on the wilds. Able to survive with a pointy stick and his two hands.

Quick thinking: Thinking quick keeps you alive, you learn this or die in the Edge family.

Madman's Luck: Either too good to die, or just too crazy to be good. No one knows the reason, but Zeke has a knack for not dying when by all rights and rules of logic he should.


Weaknesses

Mad: First and foremost, Zeke is nuts. Whether it's a legitimate medical condition or just the way he finds it best to interact with the world is unknown. But either way this has screwed Zeke over damn near as much as it has saved him. And it makes him something of a liability in groups.

Rusher: More a reactionary creature than a planner, Zeke relies a little too heavily on luck and instinct over smart planning.

Fearless Fool: Close to Rusher, but this one makes him put his own life on the line to save others (even if they aren't in real danger) which has resulted in him putting himself in a hospital before.

No techie: The most advance bit of technology he can work is a cordless phone. Beyond that it takes time, effort, and hand holding to get him through it.

Hidden ability

I speak for the Trees: Zeke can talk to plants, and knows every type of plant he comes across even those not if this Earth. Just by looking or talking with them he can know it's name, purpose, and effects on Humans both good and bad.

Element

Nature: Like everything else in Zeke's life he has a very close affinity to Nature, particularly the plants. If he focuses he can almost feel the natural world breathing and moving around him. As such he has a knack for things like camouflage, foraging, and trapping.

Bio: Born on an old plantation a few miles south of Atlanta. While not originally belonging to his family the Edges having been tilling the soil there for four generations. Tobacco, cotton, and various kinds of animal meat were the primary exports coming off Edge plantation.

Zeke is the youngest of the family, his brother Ike was twenty-eight, but they've always been close. And being the only kids around for miles they were their own best friends. Hunting fishing, tearing around the woods and swamps near their home. This was life and it was a good one for many years. That was until Ike decided to follow in his Grandfather's footsteps and joined the Army. Zeke was too young to join so he got saddled with Ike's chores, it took him a bit of time, but he grew stronger each and everyday and business continued as usual.

Though as his brother completed his training and went off to war the mood changed. His father and grandfather always subscribed to the be prepared for anything philosophy, but the day Ike got shipped out they doubled-down on it turning the idea into an obsession. Building a fallout shelter, buying up stocks of ammo and supplies, and began training heavily in survival, woodcraft, and anything else they could think of. Zeke learned what he could, but when news came to the homestead that Ike had been killed in combat his family went nuts. They sold their crops and fields and turned the plantation house into a small fort.

They turned towards teaching other doomsday preppers for income, but Zeke was somewhat disenchanted with it. He was tired of living like the death of the human race was right around the corner. So on his 26th birthday he bought a one way ticket to DC, he had been talking with a friend up there who had a nice paying job at Camp for him. Even if he was trying to get away from the doomsayer life the habits traveled with him. He had his full bug-out bag and weapons stuffed in the back of his old jeep and arrived in DC a full week before word came down the line of the World Con, sounded like fun and despite his habits he let a friend talk him out of bringing his own jeep and most of his gear, still he managed to get away with his normal kit of pocket knife, matches, and his rigger's belt. And of course any prepper can make use of boot lace and elastic. He hoped it'd be a fun waste of his only day off a week.

Other: The alarm clock screamed through the layers of a lucid dream filled with babes in America flag bikinis carrying beer and burgers. A single man sitting in a spangled wading pool wearing a crown with a small mountain of cans next to him. Zeke always loved these dreams, but sadly reality comes with the dawn.

A heavy tanned hand came down heavily upon the noisy machine shutting it up.
"Ugh makes ya miss the roosters back home." The slow Southern drawl of the sleeping man groaned out from under the sheets. "At least then I could deep fry'em afterwards. Why did I even set that retarded thing? Man's only got one day off" Despite his body's protests the covers were thrown aside and the nearly nude body of a fit man half tumbled half slide out of the bed. A loud low yawn filled the air and he stumbled across the room and into the bathroom slamming the door behind him. Soon the sound of bad singing and running water was all that was heard in the small DC apartment.

The walls only had to deal with it for about fifteen minutes because in no time at all. The man exited the bathroom clad in just a towel still singing quietly to himself. "Oh right World Con or sometin'." He said allowed heading back to his room to get dressed for the fuckery in store today.

Vex-Star

Name: Vex-Star
Age: 21
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Vex

Vex at a distance looks like any other Human being you might come across in the civilized universe. Average weight and build with a slightly above average height. His skin is unusually shiny and seems to have a somewhat bronze appearance to it. His hair is thick and dark brown color, his eyes are an almost glowing orange. Normally he wears a worn out set of blue jeans, black boots, a white tank-top and a long coat that seemed to sport some kind of old military insignias.

Up close he doesn't change too much, but it much more obvious he is not fully human. His bronze colored skin looks more like silicone plates slapped over some bone and muscle. Smooth and shiny, but also soft and slick to the touch. His eyes that once simply looked to be glowing are in fact really glowing like the lights of a computer modem. And if you listen closely he seems to creak when he moves.

Vex is a Mecagoth, a solitary and old race that were once considered to be the Forebears for many other alien races, this isn't fully known though nor is much of their true history off their homeworld. Which considering the Curse that afflicts the many Mecagoth's that is most definitely a good thing. The Mecagoth are what they call "Star-Cursed" Their ancestors got too ambitious and tried to break the fabric of space and time. So as punishment, the people who leave Meccigda(the Mecagoth homeworld) fall victim to something like a dormant virus that forces them to become monster made of otherworldly metal that is resistant to all forms of damage and erosion rumored to come from the heart of a dying star that detonated at the beginning of time. From being submerged into the molten metal of a planet's core to surviving the darkest vacuums of space. They are very powerful and tough, but also nigh uncontrollable once a Meca goes savage it requires the power of star or the power of powerful Ionized field to bring him down.



In his Cursed form Vex grows to an imposing 7 foot tall and weighs nearly half a ton. His body is like one living machine. He grows sharp claws, his body loses his skin and sports a more metallic skeleton appearance his head undergoing the greatest change becoming bestial and sport a long prehensile appendage like a metal tail that can grow to immense length and act like another limb as well as a weapon.

Race: Mecagoth
Job: Formerly a Recycler, currently Smuggler. 

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4)

Metal Fist: The natural defense of all Meca's. Acting like a springy ceramic kevlar he is quite resistant to energy based weapon like lasers and plasma. But not quite as strong against piercing weapons. It also gives him enhanced strength and durability equal to someone more than twice his size.

Willpower: A necessary ability to keep the Beast inside, Vex is quite strongly willed.

Multi-sight: His eyes adapt to low light levels quickly and can tap into the infrared spectrum.

Sonic Emission: His people aren't a naturally speaking species their vocal cords are very still and metallic until they begin to train them. As such his people usually communicated through sounds waves similar the white noise you hear on a static radio sometimes. It allows them to mimic a great range of sounds.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Pilot: Having been a captain of his own ship for a few years he is quite skilled at piloting all kinds of space craft.

Gunner: Not everyone likes having their body's ripped apart and sometimes they run. So you need to be able to shoot them at any range to gain their compliance.

Recycler: Having spent part of his short life working for Astro Augmentation as a Recycler. It was his job to go out and "recycle" augs from their former owners. By any means necessary. As such he knows the laws of the Universe as well as the universe itself.

Amateur Mechanic: A skill of necessity especially since he was let go of Astro Augs. He can do down and dirty quick fixes on his ship and gear as needed. But when it comes to more complex ones he's just as likely to ditch the ship and find someone else to fix it.

Fighter: Sometimes you don't have a gun and those times you need to punch things. Vex's natural strength and toughness allows him to punch very hard.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Breaker Bolt Rifle: An odd weapon where retro design meets futuristic ability. Looking like an ancient Earth Bolt Action Rifle it fires bolts of higher speed laser bolts that while they don't burn very hot, they hit with the power of a comet.

Stratadrake Shotgun: A simple plasma based shotgun he found in what equates to a Black Market Yard Sale.

Scatter Pulse Pistol: Basically a sawed-off version of his Stratadrake.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): Vex has no need for armor as his skin is naturally tough and resistant to damage.

Equipment: The clothes on his back, his junk harvesting tools, water, food, and Lilith.

Augs(Limit of 3):

Neural Inhibitor: A common aug among Mecagoth's, it controls their inhibitions and emotions so they don't go into their Beast form as easily

Focus Eye: An essential aug he gained as a Recycler. It gives him a zoom and enhance ability used for aiming.


Personality: While his N.I. is in effect, Vex is a very level individual. He's carries a cold logic about him. He makes choices based on his own needs or on the needs of his mission at the time. But on the flip he's hard to get riled up and as trustworthy as they come.

Likes: Money, women, being alone, sex, his guns, his comic book collection, Lilith.

Dislikes: The Astro Augment Company, losing his comics, having a nagging wife without the fun parts of marriage.

Background: Born in the Northern Hemisphere of the Mecagoth homeworld of Titanar. His family were simple folk. Working in the mines harvesting the minerals the Mecagoth's need to maintain their metallic skeletons and dense bodies. In the past this would be his family were almost royalty, but in this day-and-age they were simply workers. Mecagoth's had long given up on having the means to make an Empire as their Star-Curses mean they can never leave their home planet and rule at large.

While for many people this would lead to endless war or some kind of Socialist government. For a group of nigh invincible metal golems it would be only a waste of time and lives. While no Mecagoth is created equal, none are created far greater than their kin. Before they were cursed the most ambitious of them would be the leader. They conquered many solar systems, and their banner flew in the capital of numerous planets.

But when the curse came their empires crumbled and their banners were torn down by those they conquered. This was many millennia ago, and since then the Mecagoth's have become a race of planet bound home bodies. And Vex's family is the latest of that lifestyle, he has both parents as well as two brothers. But the life of a miner was never something Vex-Star wished for himself. But if he had known where the life he chose would take him...he would've swallowed his pride and picked up the plasma cutter instead.

Once he had enough saved he got a neural implant and a ride off-world. His natural strength and durability served him well for a few years being a bodyguard. Small peanuts, but enough to give him a room at a space station and some food when he needed it. His big break came with a short cybernetic woman dressed in the silver and white uniform of the Astro Augment Company. They needed some Recyclers and they heard about a young Mecagoth roaming this sector, so they sought him out and hired him. He was only 17, but age doesn't matter much when your people are known for being able to survive in the vacuum of space. Like every job it started out good. Easy jobs, big pay days, his own ship, it kept him happy and busy until about two months ago. A job went sidewise he lost not only the aug he was meant to grab, but the target was blown up along with the ship they we all on. Vex survived the explosion of course being a Mecagoth. The company didn't take kindly to it all of course so a bounty was placed on his head and never being one to die easy he grabbed a ship and shot off into space.

Other: Vex has been around the galaxy a few times, and as he usually jokes Lilith is like a small nagging wife that he can't have sex with to him.

Giovanni Auditore

Name: Giovanni Auditore
Age: 33
Gender: Male

Homeland: Firenze, Vodacce
Special skills (includes magic, specific fighting techniques, etc): Sceriffo: A term and skillset that means equal parts Upholder of Law...and Ender of Lives. Trained from childhood into drunken adulthood. To knows the laws of all lands, shoot guns and bows as well as swing a sword or his fist. As long as he was told it was "La Legge or the Law."

Strengths:

Giudice: In the Vodacce tongue it means Judge. When sober he has deep knowledge of laws. And not just Vodacce laws, but the laws of any country civilized enough to have an internalized Justice system. When drunk he knows it's bad in most place to kill or steal.

Giuria: In the Vodacce tongue it means Jury. When sober he has an impressive ability to look at a situation with an objectively open mind. Able to hear all sides and come to conclusions absent of bias or prejudice. When drunk he can...hear both sides of an argument... and say who is full of shit and who is...less full of shit.

Boia: In the Vodacce tongue it means Executioner. Sober or drunk Gio is a dangerous man from any distance. He's been trained in the use of firearms mostly pistols, but can use a musket if you shove one in his hands. And while his primary melee training is in Lucani he has skill in the rest of the traditional Vodacce Disciplines given the proper tools. And lastly he has skill in plain old kickboxing for when he doesn't have a weapon.


Weaknesses:

Branded: Whenever he is seen out of his great coat and mask his entire body is marked with the Vodacce tattoos that denote him a killer of men, unclean and exiled from society.

Drunkard: From a lifetime of horrors and soul burning stains, alcohol is his only escape.

Mistrust of Everyone: When you are born and raised in the blood soaked lands of Vodacce and then find yourself thrust to the front lines of the petty infighting among nobles being seen and used as a weapon more than listened to as a person you begin seeing the world through motives, gains, and ulterior remarks. Everyone is out for something and no one does anything out of the goodness of their heart.

Typical role within party (i.e. scout, fighter, supporter, etc):[/b] Drunk, Executioner, Spy. Whatever allows him to keep drinking.


Description:

Giovanni

Above was Gio's uniform as a Sceriffo or a Sheriff for the House Auditore. His equipment was empowered with simple magics to glow menacingly. But those aside they were mundane garments made of the highest quality as befitting a servant of a powerful Vodacce family. Durable and comfortable, made to cut an imposing figure as much as protect the wearer from some harm.

And even after he was forced to leave that life and the glowing bits have stopped he keeps the outfit as no one wants to buy the tainted effects of the cursed profession of Sceriffo. They are his normal garbs in combat or at the bar. As dirty and blood stained as they are the mere sight has done wonders for both bringing trouble right up to him and keeping it at bay.

Underneath his greatcoat, boots, and hat though is a reviled and broken man in dire need of either a bath or a spiritual cleansing. Not unattractive as much as...marred by the nonsensical tattoos of his profession. Stocky build, average height, with blurry amber colored eyes and a disheveled mop of black curly hair, his face, while square and pleasant is plagued by a perpetually patchy beard that just can seem to grow under the riot of facial tattoos.

What skin that can be seen under his markings is mocha in color, but whether or not that is his natural tone or the result of not bathing frequently is up for debate. While his shoulders are broad and his back strong he carries himself like an old tired dog. Head down, shoulders slumped, feet shuffling along without purpose.

History

Like most of his life Giovanni drinks to forget his childhood. And after all these years it's succeeded pretty well in doing just that. But in the few instances where he is sober he remembers being pulled away from a beautiful dark skinned woman with curly hair, simple clothing, and screaming baby in her arms. He assumed his mother and younger sibling, but they could also just have been people he saw as he was being dragged away. He doesn't know and considering what happened next it hardly matters who they were.

He was taken the hilltop villa of the Auditore family. Among the richest and most powerful families in the city which was saying a lot. But considering it was built around a Merchant Prince that married a Sorte Witch that might be all that is needed to be said. Like every great house in Vodacce, the Auditores have a great deal of power and a great deal of enemies. As such they need a great deal of protection even with a Sorte Witch in their House so they created their own Forze di Polizia. A private security force tasked with upholding "The Law" in their fiefdoms and "The Law" was whatever the cutthroat and cruel family wished it to be at the time.

Such groups weren't uncommon among the Vodaccen nobility, but every single one was used in the exact same way...as the family's own personal goon squad. Many poor men and women threw themselves at the chance to be gainfully employed and have a powerful family behind them. But the money and food came at a tremendous cost, the humanity and future of each Sceriffo and Sceriffa that put on the signature coat. Once you are known for being the hammer which the nobles use to play their Game you better die in that life or hope you never lose the favor of your Master or Mistress, because once that happens you are considered worse than any breed of criminal short of genocidal murderers. This was young Giovanni's future he just didn't know it yet.

Many Polizia forces are conscripted individuals and many of those conscripts were kids stolen by or sold to the rich families to pay off some debt or earn some favor. Giovanni hoped he was of the former case rather than the latter. Being sold out of desperation makes the sting of being sold at all slightly less painful than being sold for a pat on the head. But like most everything else it doesn't matter now. He and a group of six other kids two more boys and three girls were lumped into a unit of sorts called Classe Sei or Class Six. The Matrons and Patrons called them his brothers and sisters only, he doesn't even recall if he ever learned the names of his new "siblings" they were always "tall brother" or "soft-skinned sister" when they talked with each other. Giovanni was "Amber-eyed brother" for most of his childhood and his closest sibling was "heart-faced sister" that much he does remember.

From that point on Giovanni's life was one of pain and training. Half of his class was wiped out before they completed training, only himself, white-haired brother, and one-eyed sister survived to adulthood. Heart-faced sister was killed around his thirteenth birthday by a runaway horse cart. That was the last time he ever cried, he might've cried one last time  after graduation when he was drugged and tied down by his arms and legs as the villa's ink master carved the Marchi della Legge the "Brands of Law" upon his body, but he was quite out of sorts then and couldn't remember. They had no rhyme or reason as far as he could tell, but whatever they were meant to be, they were viewed as a death sentence both for his victims and himself. As long as he worked for his Lord and Lady he was nigh untouchable aside from rival Sceriffi. But as soon as they lost power or he lost their favor he would be tossed to the wolves.

That happened at age twenty-five. A conscience is fickle and dangerous thing, in training they try to beat it out of you. If that doesn't work you are either enchanted or drugged into forgetting you have one, that usually works. But in the rarest of cases even that wears off and much to Giovanni's dismay he was one of those cases. The drugging did work wonders for years though, he lived by the book of the Auditore, knew every law, every punishment. And he carried out this brand of "justice" with cold professionalism. A beggar loitering around the villa gates? Foot broken and imprisonment for two years. A small time crook swindling peasants without paying his dues to the Auditore? Both arms broken and his belongings confiscated as recompense and imprisoned for five years...a hungry little kid caught stealing bread from a stall owned by the Auditore? Her dominate hand was chopped off and she was sold into slavery. There are monsters that slink around and hide within the deadlands of Eisen, but they are merely animals ignorant in all forms of good and evil. Giovanni and his Squadrismo? They were the real monsters in need of slaying, but no one could do it.

The day of his twenty-fifth was like any other. He woke up, washed, got dressed, ate his morning meal, and went on patrol. Once you live long enough in this life your birthday becomes  just another day, an inconvenience at best as you must update your file being kept by the family's Impiegati. But on his way to the Clerical building a law was being broken in the Auditore Quarter of Firenze. Moving like a puppet on a string he ran towards the sounds of crime. A young boy was being held down by a group of large drunken men in fine clothes. Usually he was instructed to ignore crimes committed by men and women in finery. But this group didn't have anything making them as aligned with the Auditore, and he was already annoyed with being late to his meeting with the clerks, so Giovanni intervened. The first man was brought down by a pistol shot to his knee, the next was dropped by Giovanni's large metal plated gauntlet knocking him off his feet. The third man; the one on the ground with the boy was committing the actual crime. And judging by the blood and half dressed nature of both participants, the large man was violating the boy. A harsh and punishable crime even for Nobles, but where a Peasant committing such a heinous crime would be killed on the spot and his family branded for harboring such a sick individual. A Noble would simply be pulled away and the pinkie of both his hands chopped off. Painful and disfiguring yes, but he still lived and his family could maintain honor and ranking. Such is the law of the Auditore Quarter.

Wasting no time Giovanni did just that, gripping the lout by the back of his flabby neck he was roughly yanked off the boy and before he could announce himself the Sceriffo took out his stiletto and quickly cut off both the man's pinkes before kicking him roughly down the street. The bluecoat watched the tub of lard scuttle away cursing Giovanni's name and house. Definitely not aligned with the Auditore; he was well gone before the Sceriffo turned to address the ravaged boy, but the victim was gone only a puddle of blood and a decreasing trail of it down into the slums of the city quarter to show his passing. Usually reparations of some kind would be granted the victim of a crime if they lived, but there was nothing saying they need to be given nor that Giovanni had to pursue the victim once they are freed from the crime itself. With a shrug he returned to his original task of updating his file.

The rest of his day carried on as normal, minimal crimes, minimal punishments. He had his mid-day and evening meal then after some physical training, was on his way to bed. This was his life every day so as he entered his small cell he was not expecting the loud and furious summons that caused him to drop his coat before he could hang it up. Once he heard it though he quickly pulled his coat back on and rushed towards the Guardiano's or Warden's Office. The Warden is generally considered the leader of an individual Squadrismo, though he is often just a veteran Sceriffo who has become too old or injured to roam the streets any longer. It is very rare a patrolling Sheriff is ever called to the Warden's Office, Giovanni had never been summoned there before.

As he approached though, he began to piece together why he was being summoned. A young boy's cries were reverberating down the corridors as he approached and once his pushed open the door to the Warden's Office and saw both the men and the boy from earlier he knew what was about to happen. The boy had gone to take his own revenge on his ravager and failed, his small broken body and bloody face attested to that. The men had drug the child here and demanded that Giovanni punish the boy, and the punishment for attacking a noble? Death...unfortunately Giovanni had forgotten his sword, dagger, and pistol back in his room. All he had on were his heavy metal boots, but they would do just fine.

The boy was held down by the rapist and his fellows while the Warden passed judgement on the boy...no jury...just an execution. Still under the effects of the drugs from his evening meal he quickly and coldly stomped his heavy boot upon the boy's skull until it popped like an overripe grape. Then as the men laughed and collected their recompense from the Warden Giovanni fetched a serf to clean up the mess. That night Giovanni could not sleep, the drugs the Auditore put into his food to keep him without conscience wore off a few hours into the night once his was supposed to be asleep, and never had he stayed up to face the demons waiting for him beyond the miasmic cloud of the drugs. Tonight he did...and tonight...he finally realized all that he had done! He was a monster as black and evil as any bastardly creature of the night! He had ruined countless lives, killed dozens of innocent people..all for what?! For some encompassing entity of law?! This wasn't law and what he did tonight was not justice! The faces of his victims...the screams of their family's it!.... all ripped what frail structure of his mind there was. They needed to be stopped, first he broke into the kitchen and tried to find the drugs he was usually given to forget, but he couldn't find them! Next he rushed to the Infirmary and tried to batter the door down, but it was made of stronger stuff than him! So in a last ditch effort Giovanni found the family wine cellar and emptied shelf after shelf, breaking open bottles choking down wine and bits of glass to try and quiet the screams of those he had damned! But it was all too weak! He stumbled back to his room and quickly dressed this time remembering to strap on his sword, dagger, pistol, and grab whatever small pile of powder and shot he had in his room at the time.

Drunk now, but still the lives he ruined continued to torment him. He had only one plan left...true justice. He would find the men who had ruined the young boy and show them how little their money and fine clothes protected them from someone not of this world... how much their silk sheets and goose down comforters would shield them from a monster! Finding the men was easy follow the sounds of lives destroyed. The hitch was that each man had a residence in one of the three other quarters of Firenze. And each quarter was ruled over by a separate family as powerful and corrupt as the Auditore. Sceriffi did cross over jurisdictions from time to time, but were hardly allowed free reign outside of their quarters. Luckily as long as Giovanni could keep himself walking he wouldn't be stopped. He found the first man, the one he had shot in the knee, feasting on his balcony with his bandaged leg propped up on a gold pillow. Giovanni took another shot, this time blowing the man's fat head over the railing peppering the cobbled courtyard below with blood, bits of skull, and brain matter.

He was gone to the next house before anyone even responded to the gunshot. His next target, the man he punched in the face was found in the company of gamblers in a richly furnished tavern. Not caring what happens to him or the House Auditore, Giovanni stormed through the front door of the gambler's den, and hefted the man up by his throat before crashing him through the very gaming table he had been sitting at. Giovanni smashed his heavy mailed fist into the man's face until there was nothing put bloody paste and bone marring the once perfectly polished cherry wood floor. Once again he was gone before anyone moved a muscle towards alerting a nearby patroller. His last target was the rapist himself and he was at the furthest end of the city just before the gates that lead into the Vodacce wilderness. This was the man Giovanni was most eager to end, he now saw that just cutting off the beast's pinkies was too light a punishment. Like his peasant brethren, death would be the only recourse, but this one's death would different from the other two. This one would bleed out through the night and be a spectacle for the morning commuters to gawk at.

Giovanni found the bastard rutting his way through a brothel. The place was packed, but this Sheriff was on a mission. Brushing through the front door the people scattered like roaches as his heavy bloody boots hit the hard wood floors and rang like a death bell throughout the entire whore house. No words were spoken as he marched up the steps his sword drawn and ready. Moving without missing a beat he kicked in the door of each room searching for his last victim. The debauchery he witnessed in some of those rooms joined the faces of the innocent in his mind's eye as he cleaved the heads of men and women alike who he believed were breaking the law...his law. No less than ten bodies were pulled out of that brothel before the sickly fingers of the winter dawn clawed over the rooftops of Firenze. In the last room he found his original goal. Huddled naked in a corner with the limp body of a young girl stretched out upon the bed, blood staining the sheets like it stained the street before it.

Recognizing Giovanni the man stood up and shouted at him that he would have his head before days was out. And for a few seconds it stopped Giovanni's conquest, but just long enough for the girl upon the bed to wake up and cry weakly in pain. The dead yellow eyes of the Sceriffo's mask burned brighter as Giovanni lunged forward and planted his boot firmly on the Noble's chest kicking him bodily out the third story window and into a blubbery heap on the street below. Following suit the rogue cop slid down a street lamp and landed with a heavy clank before walking to the crying man as he began to plead for his life. Giovanni had heard it all before but this...thing's cries were the mewling of a piglet against the cacophony ripping through the officer's mind. With one swing of his sword he cut off the noble's manhood, with another he took his right hand, and with a final swing he took the man's left arm.

But even as his sword and coat were being stained with blood he was not done handing out justice. Dragging the unconscious man across the street he dropped him at the base of a street light and found a long length of rope. He tied a series of intricate knots around the rapist's remaining limbs then strung him up high to the cross beams of the post. He tied one final knot to a sewer grate and with that...finished his chore. The shocked onlookers stood dumbly as the monster sheathed his sword and vanished into the night. The precision and brutality of the crimes became known as La Notte della Giustizia Rossa , The Night of the Red Justice as retelling of the story to other Sceriffi said Giovanni wasn't wearing the blue coat of the Auditore nor the colors of any other Vodacce House. His coat was blood red and his black mask emitted smoke and fire like that of a demon. That story spread and allowed Giovanni to run into a bottle and stay there for many years.

It wasn't until three years ago that he saw the light of a sober day, and that was only after he got into a fight with a Cathay Qi master by the name of Zhao Jin. While the drunken former lawman held his own the cool precision of Zhao Jin put him firmly on his ass, the fight leaving him entirely as soon as his head hit the dirty wood of the dive bar they had been brawling in. When Giovanni next awoke he was on a ship for the first time in his life and was so overcome with wonder that he threw up all over the deck and promptly passed out for a further three days. Now, a thirty-three year old man with nothing to show for his years of experiences or value, he is slowly climbing his way out of the bottle with the help of a cranky old man who still sees some value behind the blurry eyes of a lifelong killer and perpetual drunk.

Dire of Blacklake

Name: Dire of Blacklake
Age: 356
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Dire of Blacklake

6'8, 300lbs of madness and muscle. He has no hair and his skin is the deep blue of midnight. His eyes are the red of a raging fire. He dresses in just a pair of black cloth pants most times but has been known to strap on black steel armor should it be needed.

Race: Orc
Occupation: Mercenary

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Strength and durability: Born and bred for combat Dire is stronger than three full grown human men and about as durable as a heavy stone wall.

Endurance: Dire can run and fight for hours on end can even go for a full day if needed.

Sense of smell: With a nose like a bloodhound Dire can hunt and track anyone most anywhere.

Sense of hearing: Like his nose he has an extremely keen sense of hearing and can hear even a pin drop a few rooms away.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Warrior: Expert of fighting with a weapon be it one-handed or two.

Hunter: Using his keen sense of smell and hearing, Dire can hunt down anyone given enough time. And his skill as a hunter have given him a skill with blow dart guns which he creates on his own and uses on his job.

Alchemist: A unique skill he picked up in his life as a Mercenary. He can use natural plants and other additives to create potions and poisons.

Intelligent Rage: Started from his years as a Berserker for the Blacklake Guard, Dire has learned to control the rage that comes so easily to him and can turn it on and off as needed.

Survivor: Combining his Alchemy skills and living for many years as an outcast has turned Dire into a stalwart survivor of all kinds of hell.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Large saber: The weapon in the above pic, it is his primary weapon and is enchanted to strike quickly and never dull.

Various Kinds of Poison: From paralytics, to hallucinogenic, to tranquilizers, to simple pain inducing poisons all of which can be applied to his sword or his darts.

Blow Dart Gun and darts: Created from a type of bamboo this blowdart gun is painted black and around two feet long. The darts range from three inches to six and are tipped with various kinds of poisons.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): When he needs one he wears a full suit of black steel armor.

Equipment: Food, water, spare clothing, his alchemy supplies, weapon maintenance kit, blowgun and dart creation tools, fire tools, parchment and charcoal(so he can keep records of his deals), and the skulls of his favorite targets.

Personality: Like your average Orc, Dire is brutish, aggressive, and doggedly determined. Unlike your average Orc though, he is keenly smart and able to control his savage side with astounding skill.

Likes: Food, money, blood, his weapons, his mate, his freedom, and alcohol
Dislikes: Being hungry, losing money, holy areas, holy relics, being imprisoned, and milk

Background: With a love of money, but a disdain for skulking around the shadows Dire is a born and bred Mercenary. His skills are born from necessity and his legacy is forged in blood and gold. Once a prominent member of the Blacklake Guard Mercenary Company (Berserker Detachment), Dire does not remember live before the Blacklakes. His earliest memory is looking up at the night sky and having to fight for his life before he even knew his name, and it wasn't until after he killed the three bears that had been loose upon him did he earn the name Krom. And from that day it was blood, training, eating, and sleeping. Dire found himself in the Berserkers and relished in their furious combat style.

For fifty years he fought alongside his brothers and sisters of the Blacklake Guard. They were all Mercenaries, but they were generally hired as a whole to supplement some established army as shock troops or heavy infantry. But it was actually during a rare two hireling contract that he and his mate Shiga, would became some of the last Blacklake Mercenaries. They were both Berserkers and some blond-haired human hero needed some extra muscle for some fool's errand into the Graycloud Mountains. It wasn't meant to be anything to boast about, as they reached the foothills though that is when a bad omen greeted them. A great dire wolf had been crushed under a black pine and it's blood had mingled with a small pond besides it turning the water red.
To the Orcs this was one of the darkest omens they knew, if this was to be believed their group was in great danger, Shiga implored Krom to abandon this contract and rush back to base. But Krom was bound by the honor of his word and after some back-and-forth he convinced Shiga that so was she. So with the human the two Orcs ventured into the Mountains and a month later they returned laden with treasure and high spirits. They fully intended to feast with their comrades on the shores of the Blacklake, but word came to them quickly that the omen they had seen came true. The Blacklake Guard was wiped out in a surprise attack by a wizard using resurrected spirits cursed inside their armor and saddled with immortality. The Orc clan was whittled down to only a handful of people who were forced to flee with their lives.

Without a clan and without a home the mated pair gave up their names and chose new ones to mark their new beginnings. Krom chose Dire and Shiga chose Scorn, for six years they have been wanderers and for six years they have been gathering up what remnants of the Blacklakes they could planning to strike back against the Dark Wizard and his damned minions.

Other: Dire and Scorn have no children, but they have adopted some of the younglings that managed to escape the Blacklake massacre. A boy named Grit and a girl name Whisper.

Gunnery Officer Amra

Name: Amra
Age: 28
Profession: Privateer

Rank/Position: Gunnery Officer
Appearance:

Amra

Personality: Loud and rambunctious he walks with confidence and power.  He has the utmost respect for whatever Captain he's under as long as  they respect him. Hard drinker and a hard fighter and he's positively  fearless, Carries  a code of honor on his chest where his father  tattooed it when he was a lad.

Weapons/Personal Effects: A pair of long cutlasses, a pair of pistols, and a sling.

Skills: Well-learned and versed in armed and unarmed combat. Years  aboard ships and among strange ports has taught him many things about  self-defense. Is very accurate in both his pistols and his sling winning  many a bet because of these skills. Knows how to navigate the sea and  stars, trained by the Navy in the use of the long guns. He's also agile  enough to climb almost anywhere on a ship.

History: Amra was born and raised on ships, his family were traveling  pioneers. Always looking for some plot of land to call their own with  very little success. Eventually they had to settle in one spot with his  father's health failing. So dropping anchor in the first port they liked  they settled down and became relatively landlubby. But soon Amra came  of age and decided to sea, his first mistress was calling him long  enough so gathering up his father's old weapons he left for the sea.

[Wilderness Soul]

Hello all! Back for a bump and a few more tidbits for new stories and maybe a character or two. I started a new job and have been trimming old stories. But, I have room for one more story I think so send a PM and lets see what happens!

First, a single Rumination idea this time

Ruminations +1

One idea I came across was inspired by another web comic, but this one I found on YouTube.

A Paladins Waifu: What would happen if a just and devout Paladin or Knight used Holy Magic to trap and bind a sexy monster girl to him via unbreakable magic chains of light? It wasn't quite his intention, more like trap her within a soul gem to be safely stored away before she destroyed the world. But he screwed up the spell and now he has his own pet monster girl permanently attached to him. Madness, antics, and shame would happen XD But maybe there's a way to free her without destroying the world. Or maybe...just maybe...they'll both find this arrangement to their liking and never wish to go back.

For the story idea itself that can go in a number of fun directions as well as the actual nature of the Monster girl being bound. Maybe she's a lust crazed succubus who only wishes to get her revenge on the knight who trapped her by sucking out his very life force?

Or maybe she's a normal monster girl simply being mistaken for some dark spewing monster?

Either way this could be either a one-shot story or fun long term one. Hit my PM box up and let's see where it goes!

Next, more Requiem additions.

Requiem +3

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ro153fcFtdo&t=5159s

I will admit on the outset, it's the Elf woman in the image and her outfit choice that inspired me the most, but could still be a nice story in there somewhere.

Off the top of my head hows this sound?

In a land that has known nothing but peace for centuries. The finer things in life flourish, instead of bloody conflict there is theater telling grand tales of heroics and comedy to all even if they cannot pay for it. Instead of creating the sharpest blade or strongest armor, the artisans can truly embrace their namesake. Painting great masterpieces, sculpting the likeness of your gods into marble pillars and create a glistening white temple around them.

Even a world of peace though their must be a King, and every King...should he be lucky enough is blessed with children. And one such child is the beautiful Princess Nikea. The embodiment of Elven grace and beauty, embracing the softer like of an painter rather than that of a Warrior Princess railing against the boredom and expectations of a Princess. She is very happy with her life, happy to dress up and flirt with the Prince's of the other kingdoms. But when in the privacy of her chambers and with only her maids and personal bodyguard around she embraces simplicity rarely changing from her slinky dress or stockings. Sexual appetites pursued from time to time with her maids, but she wishes for the touch of a man. And only her bodyguard is allowed in her presence, but he's a man of purity and resolve...much to his own detriment. He sees Princess Nikea in all states of dress, he'd even seen her nude from time to time, but always he had to leave the room or keeps his eyes averted. A common grunt is never meant to bed a princess just die in her defense.

Sadly all good things must come to an end and during the Summer Solstice disaster strikes and the Princess and her bodyguard must flee into the cold unforgiving world while their home burns to ground from the fury of ancients forces beyond either of their ken. With their names and ranks dangerous they become new people and must embrace new lives with only each other to rely on.

Obviously YC will be the Princess and MC will be the guard, but am open to other ideas maybe even flipping the switch and the Bodyguard being a woman and the Prince be in danger. Always looking for other angles to look at a story.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AIkfuWSZ0Zw

Much like the above I love the image and get more ideas from it than just the music, but still there is a story to be had.

A nomad lost in the endless desert known not only for it's unforgiving sands, but an ancient legends as old as the world itself. When the gods finished completing the world their cosmic energies were nearly spent, but they knew this would would need someone watching over it as they rest for the coming eons. As such they picked the daughter of the first King and imbued her with the remnants of their divine might. All their strength, wisdom, and abilities went into this innocent girl child. But it came with a prophesy as well as everything in the universe must be balanced.

These great blessing came with a timeline of sorts. When the girl has grown into a woman and reached the age of twenty-five her powers would returned to the Ether for the Gods to reclaim killing her in the process. But during this Release the Kingdom would know great strife and death as the many Fallen Gods and Demons of the world lust after the might of the Creators and this "Release" would be their only time to harness it. Fearing for the fate of his peaceful lands the King asked one of the Desert Fae to cast a Sleeping Spell on his daughter. Asleep her powers would remain dormant and preserve not only her but the world itself. The Boon was granted, but like with everything there was a cost. She would need to remain in a protected chamber so as to not be whisked away by those who seek her power and should she be woken by a man of pure heart and nobleblood she would return to the land of the living restarting the clock on her own life again.

This was over 1,000 years ago now. The Sand Kingdom had fallen in the many years since becoming only a myth. But rumors still persist that the Princess still sleep within the chamber protected by the ancient Fae waiting for the man from the prophesy to find her. But will they be able to protect her and the world as the clock dwindles down to her 1,025th year of life?

Do you wish to play a Goddess upon the mortal plane in a race against time to beat the fate thrust upon you without your knowledge? Or will you accept it for the greater good?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQH7vDJBW1k&t=1058s

The music plus a web comic a friend showed me brought upon this idea.

In an alternate world...in an alternate reality. Science went off on it's own drumbeat for along while, the industrial revolution hit the world like a stream powered freight train. But magic did not die off like it did in our world, no it adapted, it evolved, it allowed man to merge himself with machines and clockwork.

Clockhearts as they were called became the workforce of the future. Able to go days without the need for rest, able to survive on minimum food and water. And designed for subservience as everyone was made with a single unique key, that key was the spark of magic that powers them. As such their "Key Masters" guarded these precious totems with their lives if a key every got lost or destroyed the Clockheart would die with it. And a Keymaster can only ever have one Clockheart, society grew exponentially on the backs of these automatons, but soon the needs outpaced the workers and they were replaced with pure machines needing only fuel and maintenance to work. The Clockhearts fell out of fashion for work or war. And by and large the practice of making Clockhearts died with them, they were turned into companions and pleasure slaves as they were created from the bodies of the deceased or made of a still mystical process that made their bodies soft and gumlike.

But these were the last iterations of Clockhearts before they vanished completely from modern life. Becoming the stuff of dime novels and moving pictures. Still models have popped up from time to time, decommissioned and displayed as oddities to be gawked at in sideshows and museums. World wars passed, politics changed, science replaced magic, the world become dull ad gray. Then the world's economy died off throwing everyone into a Great Depression. Many died or turned to crime, but some went back in history for a solution and they rediscovered the Clockhearts and a few scraps of magic instruction to create or reactivate one. This is where our story picks up, but where will it end?

The characters are open, you wanna play the Clockheart and my the new Key Master? Awesome.

Want to be the Key Master to my own Clockheart? Love the idea!

And lastly some more Recasts!

Doctor Abernathy Ramsey

Name: Abernathy Ramsey
Age: 26
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Abernathy

Average height and slightly undersized for a man of his age. Built like a scholar more than anything. But for the sake of practicality he has done his best to stay physically fit even if on the small side.

Pale skin and yellowish blond hair as well as bright blue eyes that glow with magic round out Abernathey's appearance. And he is usually seen wearing long blue robes and tall brown boots, will done the above outfit or his armor when out and about.

Race: Magical Human
Job: Puppet Master Wizard and Alchemist

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Expert Puppet Master: As an expert in this rare school of magic. He can summon and bind elemental spirits to the bodies of puppets. Earth, Water, Fire, and Wind are those with which he is best at binding, but he is able to bind Elemental Spirits of Mind, Body, and Spirit as well though they can still prove difficult for him.

Magical Blood: Like all Mages, his magical blood gives him a longer than average lifespan as well as enhanced durability, intellect, and willpower.

Spirit Sight: Needed to interact with and control the elemental powers he works with as a puppet master. Also it allows him to spot magic traps from a decent distance away.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

General Wizard: While he specializes in Puppet Magic. He also has training in the other schools of magic. Destruction, Restoration, Illusion etc.

Alchemist/Plague Doctor: His livelihood and his most used skill besides his puppet magic. Ramsey is highly skilled in Herbology, Botany, potion brewing and medicine.

Light Blade fighter: Be it the foil gauntlet in his work uniform or the claw gauntlet in his normal appearance Abernathy has trained himself to use these weapons in conjunction with his magical powers.

Scholar: Always in pursuit of knowledge, Abernathy is constantly running experiments and learning new things. His naturally curious demeanor makes this more joy than work as well.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Magic: The most obvious weapon for a mage. Abernathy can use various spells and buffers to defend himself.

Claw Gauntlet: The weapon in his main image. And only carried with him when he's outside of the city. Made of fine and razor sharp steel.

Foil Gauntlet: The weapons in his work uniform. Like the claws it is made of a sharp and well built steel blade and is what he brings with him whenever going on a house call.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor):

Doctor Ramsey

Equipment: Ink and quill, spare clothes, water skin, empty potion bottles, a travel alchemy kit, various potions.

Personality: Abernathy is a quizzical man. Run by his desire to find peace and quiet to conduct his research and spellcasting. Socially awkward when such situations are forced upon him, but he is smart enough to keep himself from floundering about in most cases.

Likes: His constructs, magic, puppet magic, studying, peace and quiet, the middle of the night, early dawn, the Mage's Guild.

Dislikes: Loud things, being disturbed, the Mage's Guild, Mage Hunters, being too hot, thing not going according to plan.

Background: Dr. Ramsey is the latest member of a long line of Puppet Masters originating with the Witch Xandra Merning. A very ancient and powerful magic user that by most recordings was the first to explore this discipline of calling upon and binding elemental spirits to man-made  constructs, called puppets.

Despite its ancient roots it is still a very rare school of magic and often interconnected with the most shunned of magic schools Necromancy. Though any true practitioner will staunchly defend against such allegations by saying they only deal with elemental spirits that have never known physical life comparing it more closely to Conjuration than Necromancy.

But either way Abernathy has been practicing the skill his entire life being trained by his mother Abinal while his father Jesut taught him more traditional magical skills most notably Alchemy. Needless to say, Abernathy was destined for the life of a Scholar and Wizard.

He went through all training set to him and excelled. But like most Wizards not born into the aristocracy his social skills were very much lacking. He just never had the time or means to seek out love, not until he met Maria Winters. A Witch of the Destruction/Conjuration School he met while in school. Despite being from different schools of magic they were thick as thieves in those days. And stayed friends well into their lives as independent mages, but a year after they both graduated a terrible disease struck and blew apart their happy lives. Maria was struck low by the Sapphire fever and died within the year.

The young wizard was devastated and fell off the face of the earth for a few years. But he was not idle in his mourning. He dove headfirst into his work and by the time he returned to the public eye he was accompanied by a pair of Constructs named Jeremiah and Thalia and a desire to prevent anyone else from dying. Perfectly formed beings made of light weight metal and rubber. They were his first creations and among Puppet Masters the sign he was truly one of them. With their help and his new desire to heal Dr. Ramsey quickly became Visagot's most prominent Alchemist and Doctor. In the coming years three more constructs were made and his business soon grew into a Apothecary and medicine delivery service. Making friends with the  rich and powerful while at the same time keeping the little people in mind healing any and all that come looking for aid.

Other: Abernathy has only ever had one love, a fellow mage named Maria he met early on in his career as a wizard, but disease and misfortune tore her from his life and he hasn't tried again since.

Malcolm Sun

Name: Malcolm Sun
Age 24
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Malcolm

Malcolm is a solidly built young man, he's 5'9 and weighs a stout 185 lbs of lean fit muscle. His skin is fair and because of a strange genetic trait his hair is naturally as green as his eyes. Most likely to be seen in a casual pair of blue slacks, comfortable loafers, and a short sleeved polo shirt. Though he does change outfits as he needs to.

Personality: Malcolm is an even mannered lad, he keeps a cool head even in bad situations. Many have said he's too serious, but he just likes keeping himself in control. When he's around his friends he loosens up some, becoming a somewhat dry humored joker, but even then he doesn't let himself get too crazy.


Background: The Sun family is one of the oldest and most reliable families in Greenmoor. The picturesque hamlet on the edge of the ancient Archer's Woods. Hunters throughout their lone line, they have maintained  level of peace and wealth not often seen in small towns. And even though hunting hasn't remained an overly lucrative way of life in the modern day the Suns have always been an adaptive clan.

They moved onto forestry, wildlife conservation, and soon found themselves the elected caretakers of the historical forest of Greenmoor itself. Paid by the county to preserve and patrol it. Been that way for one hundred years, and now on the cusp of the stewardship being transferred to the eldest child of the Sun family, the clan leaders find themselves in a position they never thought they would be in. The Eldest child is in fact two, Malcolm and his brother Matthew both fall into the purview of taking over as steward, but they are both very young and not as worldly as their parents in terms of taking care the forest.

As such they are both tasked with maintaining one of the family's businesses for two years before the decision will be made. He who does the best will be chosen as Steward of Archer's Wood. Now for Matthew, being the more active of the toy he plans to take over the Archers Gym in the town and promote physical health in the city of Alabaster Gate. Malcolm on the other hand has always had a secret love for cooking and baking, and chose to take over the Sun Burst Cafe from his ailing Aunt and run that. It sat on the sleepy road between Alabaster Gate and Greenmoor, but has always been a popular place for residents of both places. He took it over on the first day of spring a year ago, but its popularity has only grown and now he's looking for workers to help him.

Mortimer Grimm

Name: Mortimer Grimm
Age: 245
Gender(m/f): male

Appearance(pic and description):

Mortimer

Mortimer Grimm is a man of means and fine tastes wrapped around the body of a prize-fighter. 6 foot even in height and a sturdy 190 pounds of tight muscle. His green eyes glow with magic and his face is kept in a state of perpetual stubble. His wavy blond hair is kept slicked back and shoulder length. His face is strong and masculine, but not brutish one look will tell anyone he's a man of high education and razor edged ruthlessness.

Race: Wizard
Job: Resistance Mage

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4):

Magical Blood: Being a pure blooded Wizard comes with the perks of a long life, a durable body, and the ability to enhance his senses to a certain degree.

Arcane Knowledge: Trained from before the end of the world in magic, but ever since his magic has been geared towards destruction and melting flesh from bones. But he does know a few protective charms and Restoration spells.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Sword fighting: A classic skill and one invaluable skill for surviving in a world full of death.

Athletics: Running and jumping are always handy to not dying.

Staff fighting: Like sword fighting this skill is classic and life saving especially when you're using a magically runed staff to do it.

Runes: A skill that comes in handy, but takes time and can't be used a lot.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):
Edge of the Orchard Staff A 6 foot tall staff made from the wood of an ancient apple orchard that used to grow on the Grimm estates. It is runed with magic boosters and ones that make the staff extra durable.


Saber: The blade in the picture a simple steel saber with silver worked into the metal to make it more effective against monsters.

Dagger: The other blade in the picture good for staking hearts.


Personality: He puts survival and magic first and foremost. This world is fucked and he wants to get the hell out of it, ruthlessness, cunning, magical might, and that shining will to live on. This is what drives Mortimer on, he'd just as easily go by himself and take a pretty Witch with him to try and repopulate this next world. He treats those around him with as much respect as they pay him, but should they screw him they will be used as Hellhound bait.

Background: Born to the ancient and damn near unkillable line of Grimm, Mortimer was the second son before the end of the world happened, but after it he quickly became the only survivor. All of his family were born with great magic and had centuries of training behind them, but Mortimer had somethings they did not. Stupid luck and a careless ruthlessness that led men of his line like the pirate Captain Sebastian Grimm into infamy.

Being skilled in elemental magic gave Mr. Grimm an edge over the gun-totting Doomsday preppers and monster hunters around the world. He can punch holes through steel while bullets need to be specially made to do that. He knows spells that can banish a demon with a thought while others need time to prep ingredients and scribble things on the floor to make traps. Magic has many advantages, but like all things it has it's downside. Magic wears a body down and in a world of madness using it too much brings you closer to the edge. Also those with magic blood were among the first to be killed, the Grimms held out longer than most, but like all that stood against the end they fell forcing anyone left to run for their lives. And with much shame Mortimer joined them, though he never lost his feet or his head he joined the ranks of the low-brow monster hunters and preppers he once hated and has been fighting with the resistance ever since.

Now for over one hundred years Wizard Grimm has been sending Gum Men who are susceptible to magic and Monsters back to the pit from whence they sprung. But after years of nonstop magic using Mortimer began seeing the ominous shadows of the Outer Gods in his dreams and whenever he closed his eyes. It was the madness of this world and he found it got worse and worse each time he used magic. He held off it for a few years and was finally able to get a full night's sleep, now he uses his magic only when absolutely necessary relying on his wits and other skills to win the day. He now works as an advisor and guard to the Druid. A mystic and mankind's last hope at survival and eventually victory over the Outer Gods and their minions.

His days are spent fathering the new generation, leading high risk scout patrols, and planning with the Druid and Jason to take the fight directly to the Monsters.

Where were you the day the sun didn't shine?: At the blasted remains of my family's estate dueling my brother Malik with rapiers made from the bones of giants.

Riggs "Grey"  Elmherst of Greyhold

Name: Riggs Elmsherst of Greyhold or just Grey
Age: 34
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Grey

Despite the grey on his head and beard Riggs is a man well seasoned by battle and life on the road. Only 5'8, but weighing a bulky 195 pounds of stout muscle. His skin despite being on the road for many months has retained it's paleness from his youth in the mountains of Eisignol. His eyes are cheerful most of the time and a warm brown

Race: Human
Job: Sellsword

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4) N/A

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Blunt Weapon: While many in his field prefer the flash and slash of swords or the range and power of bows Grey has always found the feel of crushing his foes under the heft of a war-hammer or the solid crack of a mace one his favorite in the whole world. And within that he prefers single-handed weapons.

Power: Born from his preferred weapons Grey is an extremely strong man despite not being the tallest one around.

Adaptable: You don't live long in his business if you can't think on your feet and weasel out a few extra seconds of luck before winning the day. Grey has turned this into an art form.

Explorer: Like being adaptable, you don't get a good pay day unless you know your way around the world. Grey has been to all points on the compass even hopping a boat of the many Island nations around Eisignol and Biesignol.

Gambler: Every man needs his vice to be a balanced human. For Grey it's gambling, be it with money, horses, or sometimes his life the sellsword gets quite the rush from this vice and when jobs are dry he can pay his rent with it.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Mace: The weapon in the picture. Made of fine steel and hard oak it's a simple Pilgrim's weapon he was told once, but it's effectiveness lies in it's simplicity in his eyes.

Dirk: For times he needs speed and stealth on his side he has a keen double-edged dirk that's about a foot long made of fine steel like his mace.

Utility knife: A last resort weapon, but mostly used as just a tool. While made of steel it's a more utilitarian quality and single-edged.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): Treated and study leather body armor and equally sturdy gauntlets are all he has really ever needed.

Equipment: Fire making tools, a waterproof tent, camp supplies, whetstone, spare clothes, dried food, a heavy cloak, waterskin, and a small flute he plays when he has downtime.

Personality: Grey is a gruff and self-sufficient man. Preferring his own company or the company of Irana to most other things. But while many think him mean or distances this isn't true. He just doesn't like dealing with a lot of new people and in his eyes Irana is the only other person he needs and trusts enough to watch his back out in the wilds. To her he is a kind and considerate man often fussing over her, much to the woman's annoyance. But to others he is usually cordial and to the point.

Likes: Traveling, nature, money, Irana, working, being alone.

Dislikes: Being stuck in one place, losing a job, liars.

Background

Born in the backroom of his ancestral family manor Riggs Elmherst of Greyhold was born a gentleman without a penny to his name. His family has been warriors for centuries and there were even some old records that claimed them to be descended from an long Iaegr line from the ancient fort of Fellstar starting with a Wardrun by the name of Kenway the Wild-Fire and a woman named Aria Hardig.

His father often joked those records could put one of them on the Throne of the Human Dominion someday. But such grandeur was never appealing to Rigg's family, they earned their coin honestly. But luck has a habit of turning her back on you at the most inopportune time. A series of bad business deals and leans harvest years had reduced the men and women of Greyhold to paupers. And soon after Rigg's first birthday they were nomads, but when many  would cringe and gnash their teeth the Elmhersts were a warrior's stock on the road was where many of them earned their fortune.

So moving from campsite to campsite Riggs was raised around many different races learning many different things. One thing he always taught though was stand on your own two feet, trust your own courage and strength before others. With this manta always playing through his mind he grew strong and grew smart. Around his thirteenth birthday he took his first job as a sellsword and the travelbug hit him hard and never backed down.

While his family still lives and travels the same roads as him Grey has been living on his own name since he was seventeen. While not world famous like some mercs he's earned his name as a reliable and efficient mace for hire. And while still largely a lone wolf him and Irana have become quite the good team. Even settling down in a little cabin in the Burning Woods in the northwestern part of the Dominion.

Other: While they aren't official he has a female travel companion named Irana he is very close with and even lives with between their contracts.

Jagmar One-Eye

Name: Jagmar One-Eye
Race: Dwarf
Age: 67

Gender(M or F):Male
P.o.B: Aglarond (the Glittering Caves), Endor
Side: Defenders of Endor

Class: Rogue
Specialization: Bounty Hunter

Skills(limit of 4)

Stalwart: Even though he isn't a warrior, Jagmar has had to teach himself to fight and as such he was learned the unflinching will and drive of a warrior.

Tracker: Whether it is hunting down Orcs that have managed to get past the border guards, or a rich merchant whose daughter has run off. Jagmar can track like a hound.

Polearm Expert: While primarily skilled in his halberd, Jagmar can use a pole-axe, pike, lance, or spear just as well.

Animal Friend: A trick he learned from the Rangers of the North, Jagmar has an affinity for animals and has a crow companion named Sorbel he uses to scout for him.

Spells(Mage only, limit of 3): N/A

Appearance(pic or description):

Jagmar One-Eye

As with all Dwarves, Jagmar is a stout, broad shouldered individual. 4'6 and weighing a mighty 210lbs. His hair and beard are a fine golden color and his one good eye is blue and glares out at world with steady defiance.

He is usually dressed as above his mithril breastplate is the only real bit of armor he has. The rest of his outfit is thick cotton and leather, both warm and functional. And when he's not fighting he just removes the breastplate and wears his under heavy coat, gloves, pants, and boots. He only uses the helmet to keep his head safe when mining.

Weapons(limit of 2, pic or description)

Halberd: The weapon is a prime example of Dwarven craftsmanship. Five feet all, the head is high-grade steel and the shaft is made of the strongest ironwood.

Throwing hatchet: A smaller axe, with a single bladed head and a strong leather wrapped handle. He can use it as a tool, a close quarters weapon, or as a throwing weapon.

Armor(limit of 1, pic or description): The finely made mithril breastplate in the image, it is runed and covers his entire torso front and back.

Equipment(pic or description) Fire-making tools, a large water bag, dried meat, his bedroll, weapons maintenance kit, Sorbel the Crow, bounty letters, rope, and a small knife used to eat with.

Runes(limit of 2 all and all)

Defiant to the End: Carved into his breastplate, it allows him to ignore great amounts of pain, but it does not protect him from actual wounds, it just lets him ignore the pain.

Cold as Stone: Carved onto his halberd it allows his hits to strike with extra force and is more likely to knock down and stun enemies.

Personality: Jagmar is a serious and focused man. He loves his solitude and his privacy, he was raised an unwanted guest in his own homeland. An orphan with a long trouble streak in him. He can deal with people for his job, but unless they really earn his curiosity or admiration he likes being by himself.

Background

Jagmar was born in the Glittering Caves behind Helm's Deep, the newest settlement of Dwarves in Endor. They were founded just two-hundred years ago after the War of the Ring by Gimli, son of Glóin. They helped rebuild the damaged fortress and the gates at Minas Tirith, forming alliances and establishing themselves as an important group in the rebirth of Middle Earth.

From then on the Dwarves of the Glittering Cave were expected to live up to that standard as Artisans and Crafters. But Jagmor was of a different mind, he was an orphan among his people. His parents were killed in a cave-in and his ancestral line originally from the Iron Hills was nearly wiped out in the War of the Ring. He had no family name nor a lineage to cash in on, so he was left to follow the only path he could. A rogue and finder of lost things, both were born from his need to find food and shelter for the night.

He did this day-in and day-out for decades. Eventually he became such a nuisance that the current Lord of the Glittering Caves decided to temper the man's fire into working for him. He received training from the Lord's personal Guards and was sent beyond the walls to be one of his Bounty Hunters. It was a life Jagmar loved, being out of those dark and depressing halls and getting to see Endor in all it's glory. Meeting people, hunting down targets, and being away from the Dwarves of Aglarond. He grew in skillset and reputation, he even found himself a nice little cottage outside of Helm's Deep where he could find peace and quiet between bounties. But his peace and solitude was ruined with the appearance of The Wrong. Helm's Deep never fell, but like many times before it became a last stand.

The Dwarves and Rohirrim joined forces again and fought back the first waves, and with aid from Gondor they pushed the bulk of the monsters back from the throats of the Free People. Currently in a stalemate Jagmar now named One-Eye after losing his right eye in a scuffle with one of the few Uruk-hai commanders left in Endor, is splitting his time between bounty work and fighting the Wrong. And he wishes above all else to return to the days when he was only bothered to find some Noble's Wife who was skipping out with the Stable Boy.

Other

Crouched among the bushes besides a large grove a Dwarf stared idly down on a pair of Humans. One, an older blond haired woman in maybe her mid-forties and a younger black-headed man in his early twenties. They were seated on the shore, naked and with their lower halves entwined under the clear blue water.

This was Lady Emilgard and her stable boy Winstar. They were doing their weekly ritual of "fishing" for Lord Emilgard's table. But the wily lord knew better, he's had Scouts tracking them, but none of the could get close enough to actually see it happening. So once he heard of the Dwarf with a knack for hunting people down he sent for Jagmar and now here they were.

Sorbel was perched in a tree overlooking the grove, his job already being done since he was the one who actually found the Lady and the boy's secret meeting place. Now it was just up to Jagmar to bring them both in. But the Lord was a pompous ass, so the Dwarf figured he'd let the couple have one final bit of fun before he ruined it. Besides the nude human body just looked unpleasant... at least most of the ones he seen have been so. It was remarkable how many of his bounties he's caught with their pants down or their skirts up. Mostly Humans, but he's taken in a few Dwarves, but those were all men. Female Dwarves very rarely leave the caves.

In peace, peoples' inner demons always find way to amuse themselves. And this is one he's come across so many times. Rolling to his back Jagmar let the adulterers have their privacy, but he wished he brought some ear plugs. The woman had such a painfully shrill voice it made even Sorbel caw in disdain. Luckily the coupling didn't last long, the boy was young and the woman so very eager. Soon he heard them share a laugh, make a few lewd jokes and climb from the water to dress. Time to go to work, getting up from his back he quickly emerged from the bushes and actually made it down the small slope before either person reacted.

The Stable Boy saw him first and reached for his cudgel putting himself between Lady Emilgard and the Dwarf, but Jagmar quickly pulled his hatchet out and hurled it blunt end first. It connected to Winstar's forehead and dropped him like a stone. The Lady then grabbed her hunting sword, but the Bounty Hunter quickly knocked it down with his halberd staring blankly at the woman.
"Lady Emilgard, I'm Jagmar One-Eye. A Bounty Hunter here to bring you back to yer dear husband's bed."

The fear the noble lady felt quickly fled and was replaced by anger yanking her sword free she shouted at the stout man.
"You ugly little shit! How dare you do that sterile fool's bidding? He cares more about playing general with his shirtless goons than being a good husband and trying to start a family with me! Besides, he's plouged them more than he has me!"

Jagmar rolled his eyes shouldering his weapon.
"Than do like any other scorned woman an' hire someone to kill him. Easterlings are always eager to get the blood of Western Men on their curved swords. Ye can even marry Winstar here afterwards. I don't give a damn, but your husband is paying me good money to bring you both in. Now I can bring you in awake or knock you out like the yon fool there, an' drag you back. Yer choice." The Lady was formally a Shieldmaiden for the Riders of Rohan, and give up wasn't in her skillset.

She shouted in anger and charged Jagmar bringing her sword up in a wide arch. The Dwarf sighed rolling under her swing and tripping her up. She squawked in surprise like a chicken and fell flat onto her face, the long skirts she was wearing tangling up her feet and inhibiting those old warrior reflexes from saving her. The Bounty Hunter got back to his feet and returned to his relaxed pose waiting for the woman to regain her feet. With some spastic flaps of her arms and legs she was back up, face red with anger and embarrassment. She quickly cut the bottom hem of her dress off giving her feet more movement. Jagmar hoped that wouldn't be taken out of his bounty. But the woman charged again this time moving with the renowned skill and speed of the Rohirrim warrior women. Jagmar actually had to engage her in combat, ducking around her swings and countering the backslashes. It was a surprise, but the Dwarf was getting annoyed.

He waited for her next swing, but this time he took it in the pauldron of his armor then rushed forward knocking the woman down before bringing his large fist down and knocking her out with one punch. The stout man sighed and got to his feet, they'd both be knocked out for awhile but he really wasn't looking forward to carrying them both back to Lord Emilgard's estate. He sent a shrill whistle up to Sorbel and motioned for him to go find the patrol of Riders the Lord had provided to watch his back. The crow cawed loudly and flew off towards the North. In the mean time Jagmar tied both the lady and her lover up and gagged them, as he looked down at their prostrate forms he frowned, sometimes his job bothered him. The Lady wanted to be loyal to her husband and give him children, but he spurned her in favor of the company of other men, so she too sought out the company of other men. He knew a few good assassins who could fix that, but he was working for the Lord and when your livelihood depends on being neutral and just getting the money owed you, you can't let pesky things like honor or logic get in the way. He pulled out a long pipe and put some of his homegrown tobacco into the bowl and lit it with a match. He puffed the sweet smoke into his lungs and waited for the Lord's riders to show up.

Whistler Merning

Name: Whistler Merning
Age: 20
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Whistler

Whistler is a man of lean muscle and 5'11 His eyes glow with power and his hair is kept short and is black as night. He carries a utility cleaver, a weapon he's carried with him his whole life it's a fixed blade cleaver with a heavier blade and thick handle used as much for fighting as cooking. And his most prized possession is a Pan Pipe, his magical pipe made of fine cherry wood he carries with him at all times.

He's a thief so armor isn't a big thing, but his coat is of a heavier make and offers protection from blades. Under his coat he is usually wearing a dark colored shirt, urban camo pants, and black boots. Lastly he carries lock picks, a compass, penknife, and a necklace from his mother.

Race: Puppet Master
Specialties: Lock-Picking, Misdirection, and Puppet Control

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 3)
1: Magic blood: Being a type of mage gives Whistler a tougher than average body.
2: Puppet Control: As much his race as his school of discipline, Whistler can use magic amplified by a musical pipe to bring carved wooden puppets and sometimes even dead bodies to life and control them.

Puppet Control: Whistler can use a Gift amplified by a musical pipe to bring carved puppets and sometimes even small dead bodies to life and control them.  Each puppet is made of a different material and serves a different purpose. And due to the state of his Gift They can grow from the size of action figures to over full grown adult size. Each type of puppet requires a different song and each song takes a few minutes to fire off, but once it is done the puppets stay fully grown and work via his will power until he plays the song again. At his current skill level he can only control three puppets at a time and only after he's played their song.

Wood: His second most common and well-made puppets. They start about one tall and grow to about the size of young children around 4 feet tall. He uses them to scout areas or help him steal stuff. They are finely carved with slightly anime character like features. His mother and him had been working them for about a year before she died in the great event. She had done most of work herself, but Whistler helped out and managed to finish them with crude hair features. They are made of solid Oak so can take a small number of conventional hits, but are susceptible to fire.

Rock: His "Bruisers" as he calls them. They start at about a foot and a half tall and can grow to about Whistler's size. He uses them to fight people or break down walls and doors. While they are sculpted they look more like weathered statues a few centuries old. They were his first solo creations at around age thirteen, still lonely in a world that seemed bent on killing him he tried to make them as human looking as he could, but his skills were nowhere near his mother's. They are made of solid granite and are able to withstand a large number of conventional hits and some magical ones, but are slow.

Iron: His personal body guard. It starts at about two feet tall and can grow to six feet. It is heavy, powerful, and can withstand a great deal of physical punishment. Like the Rock Puppets it is sculpted, but aside from a pair of eyes and a slit of a mouth it's faces is an unnervingly blank slate. Made just before his eighteenth birthday, he wanted the Iron puppet to be scary looking and menacing rather than friendly. So he went with the barest of dead eyed features. Made of solid iron, the iron puppet is Whistler's most durable puppet, but also his slowest. It can withstand the greatest number of hits making it nearly impervious to conventional attacks, but can be susceptible to large enough attacks of fire or water.

Quartz: His newest puppet made from pieces of quartz crystal it is fragile to physical attacks but is able to absorb and neutralize many forms of elemental attacks from fire, water, earth, wind, wood, lighting, metal, and some Mind attacks. He did not create it so his control over the Quartz Puppet is iffy, but he found it while exploring some of the ruins of the old Lazarus Institute. It had no determinable features simply a large spherical chunk for it's head, a large rectangle for the body. The creatures arms and legs are cylinders broken up into a hinged "upper" half and a "lower" half. The arms end in three claws sticking out of a sphere and it's feet are simply two large trapezoid shaped chunks. It almost seems like a living creature more than a puppet so once he activates it the thing acts and moves with a strange sentience. And even if he plays the song and "deactivates" it the being simply settles down and seems to just go to sleep rather than completely turning off like his own puppets. The Quartz Puppet is immune to Elemental attacks, but most susceptible to conventional attacks.

Clay: His first puppets left to him after his mother was killed in the disaster from ten years ago. She had carved them herself and they were perfect replicas of his mother and the man he assumed to be his father. They both looked to be around fifteen or so when he got them at age seven. But the beauty of his mother's power had them age with him once he turned fifteen himself. And as the Clay Puppets aged he saw just how much he looked liked his father. They are only about ten inches tall and do not grow, but they move with a fluidity bordering on life-like. They are his personal safety blankets and at night when he is alone and feeling down he plays their song and they dance all about him making him feel not so alone. They are made of dry clay as such cannot take many hits, nor does he ever use them in combat or anything.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 3)
1: Lock picking: The skill he uses the most, Whistler can pick and get past nearly any lock.
2: Slight of hand: His day job is a hustler and in this profession you need to be able to hide the winning card and assure everyone you're on the up and up.
3: Musician: The natural side effect of being a Puppet Master who uses music to control his creations Whistler is very skilled at using his pipe to make wonderful non-magical music.


Weapons(Limit of 2 weapons):
Utility Cleaver: A weapon he's carried with him his whole life it's a fixed blade cleaver with a heavier blade and thick handle used as much for fighting as cooking.
Pan Pipe: His magical pipe made of fine cherry wood he carried it with him at all times.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): He's a thief so armor isn't a big thing, but his coat is of a heavier make and offers protection from blades.

Equipment: Lock picks, a compass, penknife, and a necklace from his mother.

Personality: Whistler is a bit of a brooder. He keeps quiet and guards himself from many interactions. The Bay Water Bandits is more like a group of people stealing for themselves than a family. This leave kids like Whistler with no parents to become loners on the outside, but desperate for companionship on the inside. He's met a lot of kids like him one them a girl close to his own age. He wishes to get close to her, but his own wounded trust keeps him from doing it.

Likes: Girls, stealing, making music, making puppets, and watching clouds.

Dislikes: The rich, the city, getting caught, and going hungry.

Background: Like many in the B.W.Bs Whistler is an orphan. His father was killed by the Black Jackets, the totalitarian military that polices the poor regions of Halin. Bought and paid for by the rich they rarely take prisoners and are often made up of the most brutal crooks that come out of the slums.

Whistler was on the path himself, but his mother was a Puppet Master like him and according to her the Mernings have always been mages and many were rich. But only she and him are in Halin, the rest of their clan seemed to be dead or far from the bay city. She taught him a lot about magic and actually carved his first puppets for him. But that was at age ten, the next day she was killed in a coup against the Black Jackets. It was one of countless revolution that were snuffed out by the monsters. And each time they buckled down harder on the already heavily taxed communities. This was the last hell that turned Whistler into a Bay Water Bandit, he showed his skill as a Puppet Master to the leader, a man named Rike. The puppets his mother made him were the size of a child's doll, but this meant they could get into places others couldn't. And that was his ticket, and he cashed it in and added skills to his arsenal as the years passed.

And now he's a respected thief working directly with Rike in taking Halin back from the rich.

Chief Rizar Goldeneye

Name: Rizar Goldeneye
Age: 50
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Chief Goldeneye

Rizar is a giant among his people. 8 foot even and 900 pounds of pure muscle. His fur is golden white and his one eye is an intense white blue. His body is littered with countless gold tattoos, scars and bare patches. Telling his life as a warrior and Chief of a Warrior people. He is usually dressed as above, but with a large amount of animals bones and rare hides worked into his outfit. These are Charms and Honors and they show how successful he was as a hunter. But he can also be found in a simple blue robe and black and gold plants.

Race: Kessen
Occupation: Chief of the Goldeneyes

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Superior Physical Abilities: As a Kessen, Rizar is many times stronger, more durable, more agile, and faster than humans. And being a Chief of a Noble Pride he is at least twice as such over most other Kessens.

Enhanced Senses: The Chief's eyes, ears, nose, taste, and touch are to the level of  near superhuman.

Resistance to disease and poison: Kessens are a hardy people and are resistant to many diseases and poisons.

Claws and teeth: His claws and teeth are strong and sharp and as deadly as their weapons.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Warrior: Rizar is the best warrior in his tribe and is trained the ways of many weapons both Tribal and Modern.

Hunter: As a Noble Hunter Rizar has been trained from his cub days to hunt the most dangerous and prized beasts in the galaxy. The Thantoscale Lizards, the Luminous Stag, and the Dovs. He can track them anywhere and kill them with most weapons.

Leader: Despite being Chief due to his superior strength and Honors. Rizar has put his keen intelligence into learning about leadership from history and from the voices of his Pride.

Marksmen: While his people are a strictly tribal nation, they do go off world at times and have had outsiders invade their lands. So he trained himself in the use and maintenance of most modern firearms.

Lorekeeper: Another duty of being a Chief is knowing the lore of your Pride as well as the lore of the Kessen people. He teaches this to the cubs with the assistance of the Wild Priest of his Pride.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

The Beastlord's Voluge: Made of Dov bone and ironwood it his his primary weapon and his symbol of leadership. It's shape and construction makes it the match for all modern melee weapons.

Claws and Teeth: Always useful as weapons.

Plasma Rifle: A Hellfire Plasma Rifle with a multi-spectrum scope and extended mag. It fires green bolts of plasma that can burn through normal defenses.


Armor(one sensible suit of armor): When on his planet he wears the above outfit, when off-world he wears a suit of synthetic electromagnetic armor made of synthetic dragon scales and kevlar. It can keep conventional rounds and blades at bay but doesn't work so well against energy guns and weapons.


Equipment: Food, water, spare change of clothes, fire starting kit, weapon maintenance kits, extra ammo, and rope.

Personality: A very blunt and straight-shooting Kessen. Rizar was raised to the tunes of great heroes and legendary hunts, honor and honesty filled all such great tales. And as such they were burned into Chief Goldeneye's mind and built him into the warrior he is today.

Likes: Meat, hunting, tales of legend, his people, and his duty.
Dislikes: Vegetables, reading, fools, liars, enemies of his people, and many of the other Skillions.

Background: Chief of the Goldeneyes and their greatest warrior and hunter. Rizar is powerful and swift, he fights with the might and fierceness of the Kessens Tribe he rules and with the weapon forged with bone and wood. Born the Middle-Child of nine Kessen cubs, Rizar found himself riding the middle ground between his training. While his Elder siblings got groomed to take over for their parents once they died and his younger siblings were coddled and allowed to piss away their potential. He and his two sisters in the middle were treated to the best of both worlds, trained enough to be useful, but left with enough freedom to not be gun happy killers.

This combination of training is actually what led to Rizar becoming the Chief. When the last great Turf war between the Kessens and Kabbels happened in the 30th year of Rizar's life, his father and older siblings were all sent to fight and he was left in charge of the Pride's estates.
He had recently taking a female named Mizul to be his life mate and she had been better trained in running a Pride than he had so she was key in securing his place as the Acting Chief and making it secure for twenty years afterwards.

The war was a short, but grisly affair many deaths on both sides, some of which were his father and older siblings. He wasn't the next in line since his two sisters were ahead of him, but the skill and wisdom he displayed as the acting Chief convinced them to step down and let him take over.

Other: His late mate was a Silverclaw and a skilled Craftswoman, they have three cubs so far. Eldest: Rizon, Middle: Killan, Youngest: Mizar.

Sir Maximus Starcore of the Children of Arcturus

Name: Sir Maximus Starcore of the Children of Arcturus
Age: 28
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Maximus

Sir Maximus is a Child of Arcturus. An order of noble mercenaries who still give credence to the term Soldier's of Fortune. As such Maximus is man of peak strength and martial skill, his body, while not overly muscular is sculpted into a pillar of power and agility. His blond hair is kept medium length and his eyes are the vibrant glow of a blue giant star.

Usually he is dressed in the above suit of white star metal armor minus the blood stains.

Outside of the armor he can be found in blue jeans, a silver and white vest with the Child of Arcturus symbol on the right side, under that he wears a simple white shirt, and on his feet are a pair of comfortable leather boots.

Race: Human
Job: Son of Arcturus Mercenary

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Natural Adaptation: If there is one thing humans are good at besides tearing themselves apart, it's adapting to their environment.

Blending In: Thanks to the fact that humans have populated the universe now, most planets, Maximus can blend in pretty well, simply because of his race.

Fit: From years of training and fighting Maximus is a very fit man and at the peak of his strength, speed, agility, and durability.

Smart: A dumb merc is a dead merc, the Children of Arcturus educate all new recruits to be more than just some dumb gunman. Maximus is a grand example of this education.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Shooter: Maximus is a skilled marksmen with both conventional weapons and energy ones.

Bladesmen: A carried over skill from their early days of inception when the Skorne had nearly eliminated all guns in the galaxies where their people had bases. Maximus and his fellow mercs are very skilled sword fighters.

Fighter: Just like shooting and blade fighting, Maximus and his comrades are very skilled martial artists. While not bound by any one discipline Maximus has enough knowledge of various styles to allow him to fight on nearly any level.

Technologically skilled: Maximus's intelligence carries over into his skill with working many technologies. Computers, weapon maintenance, piloting various vehicles, and even robots.

Space Ranger: Never knowing when he'd be dropped into some inhospitable environment Maximus has trained himself to be a survivor knowing to start fires, hunt, gather, etc.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Arcturus laser sword: The blade in his picture. It is made out of one forged piece of star metal with an energy producing battery built into the handle. It sounds the actual blade itself with an electric force that acts like a plasma cutter.

Shock Shotgun, A weapon that shoots out both shock bullets that can immobilize organics and Cyborgs then launch EMP grenades that fully shut down robots.

Beretta Neos Pistol, Modified to fire either normal bullets, laser rounds, or plasma rounds.

Bear Fang, A smaller less powerful version of the Arcturus Laser Sword.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): The above suit of white star metal armor. While archaic in its appearance the suit is a wonder of technological achievement. Star Metal itself is harder and lighter than most metals, but it also carries an inexplicable electromagnetic charge that works as extra defense against energy weapons

Equipment: Money, spare change of clothes, fire starting kit, flashlight, weapon maintenance kits, extra ammo, contracts, job related documents, and rope.

Augs(Limit of 3): None

Personality: Maximus is a man of powerful conviction and honorable disposition. Raised in what could be called a Knightly Order Sir Starcore is a gentleman and a soldier. His moral compass firmly points towards truth, justice, and virtue. But he also has a quick trigger finger when it comes to gunning down evildoers, this can get him in trouble and has before.

Likes: Justice, doing a good job, women, training, and upholding the word of law.
Dislikes: Evil, criminals, failing, liars, wasting time, and breaking the law.

Background

Sir Maximus Starecore was born into order he now calls home. Both of his parents were also Children of Arcturus, his father was a Knight and his mother a Scholar. And while outsiders were welcome, most of his chapter were those born into this life. Everyday was training, socializing, eating, learning, and sleeping.

Young Maximus loved the structure and schedule of his military style upbringing. Never did he have to question the hows, whys, or whens most young children had to suffer through. Some would say this type of living could only create brainwashed killing machines or maladjusted psychopaths and with bad leaders and teachers this type of thing is very common. But the Children of Arcturus are rarities in a universe seemingly full of Sinners and Evildoers, high morality is a prerequisite for being a part of the order and the Elders knows who has the proper alignment and who doesn't. Those with it are allowed to continue with the group and reap the full benefits that come with being a member of the noble group of soldiers.

Maximus was always the golden boy of the mercenary band when it came to their morals and high standards of training. Many rumors have been floating around that he's on the fast track to becoming the Captain or even Master of the merc band. But first he needs to get through one last mission that'll force him to work alongside the type of people he's spent a lifetime hunting down and bringing to justice.

Other: Sir Maximus is single right now, but he is not inexperienced when it comes to dealing with the opposite sex.

Captain Argolith

Name: Argolith
Age: 255
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Argolith

8'8, weighing a massive 900 pounds. His wings stretch out to 9 feet and his tail is 7 feet long. His scales are a dull gold in color and his eyes are an even duller gold in color. The usual clothing he can be seen in is just a pair of bone and leather pants.

Race: Dragonkin
Occupation: Captain of the Dragon Knights.


Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Strength and durability: Like all Dragonkin, Argo is extremely strong and his scales make him very durable even against magical attacks.

Claws and Teeth: His claws and teeth are very strong and tough.

Flight: With strong wings Argolith can fly upwards of Mach 2 in speeds.

Senses: All five of Argo's senses are very keen and can work through most anything.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Heavy Warrior: Trained for many years in the use of heavy armor and two handed weapons. Argo is a tank in and outside his armor.

Survivor: Argolith didn't make it to Captain of the Dragon Knights by being easy to kill. He has extensively trained and conditioned to be the single most stubborn and resourceful warrior amongst his peers.

Hand-to-hand: While not preferred Argo can fight quite well with his claws, teeth, and tail.

Thrown: While not skilled with actual ranged weapons, Argo can hurl spears and javelins like bolts of lightning.

Tactics: A trained warrior must always be thinking ahead if he wants to live to see the next battle. Argo lives this idea to the best of his ability he plans a few steps ahead before each battle.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Battle axe: Argolith's primary weapon is a large wildly shaped battles axe. It's name is Mountain Cleaver and it's so massive only Argo can wield it with any skill.

Scrolls: Argo has no skill in magic, but Mages do exist amongst the Dragonkin. And they can create Scrolls that the Non-magical Dragonkin can use. They are one-shot spells and Argo carries a Fireball Scroll, Ice Storm Scroll, Storm Scroll, and three Poison Scrolls.

Claws, teeth, and tail: Always present and always useful his claws, teeth, and tail are as much weapons as Mountain Clever.

Four javelins: Four simple wood and steel javelins often tipped with poison.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): Usually only needing his own scales he goes into most battles wearing just a pair of bone and leather pants. But at times when a fight requires more, he wears a full suit of enchanted bone mail into battle.

Equipment: Food, water, weapon maintenance kit, spare change of clothing, fire starting tools, and extra scrolls.

Personality: Argolith is a warrior through and through, but under his scaly demeanor beats the heart of a gentle poet. Outside of official business Argo isn't a very violent individual. And being the son of a noble lord has given him the honor and courtly manners every gentleman needs. He dislikes laziness and forces those under him to always be improving themselves in academics or in training.

Likes: Battle, meat, training, flying, and females.
Dislikes: Laziness, vegetables, cowards, dishonor.

Background: Trained from hatchling in the noble ways of the Knight and the strength and power of his Draconic Heritage, Argo is the Captain of the Dragon Knights. Trained in the way of the heavy warrior he wields a battle axe with the power of a Dragon and the nobility of a Lord. Born the eldest son of three hatchlings, Argo has been groomed from birth to be his father's successor. A role he hasn't always wanted, but one he will accept until he can choose something else. But such a thing seems highly unlikely at this point.

Through the years of life, Argo has trained into the greatest warrior in the Kingdom, but away from the eyes of the public Argo has been striving towards being a great scholar. War is the way of the Dragonkin, but not every subject wishes to devote themselves to killing things. Some are lucky enough to have the choice, but the members of the Royal Rookery aren't so fortunate, they are born with the blood of Deathscale, the God Warrior of their people in their veins. Ruling, War, Tactics, or Smithing, these are the only option open to Argolith and his siblings. That is unless they wish to renounce their royal station and go into exile, thrown out of the Mountain of the Dragon King and forced to wander the lowlands until death. It would be a grim and tough life, but at least they would be free. Argo hasn't come to the point yet, but as he draws closer and closer to succession his heart might be torn in that direction.

Other: He has no mate or children.

Callan

PHYSICALITY

Physical Description:

Callan

He usually dresses in jeans, t-shirt, and whatever type of jacket he needs for the season. He also has his mother's Black Stone Charm necklace.

Name: Callan
Nickname: Cal or Rox
Alias: Laddie Black Stone

Age: 290
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Straight

Hair: Short and brown but changes with the terrain

Facial Hair: None

Eyes: Green but changes with the terrain

Build: Lean but fit and strong

Skin Tone: Pale

Height: 5'10

Weight: 150lbs

Unique Body Features: Being a full bloodied Rock Fae, Rox has a pair of wings that blend in with the terrain around him. As do his eyes and hair.

MENTALITY

Personality: Born and raised in the household of the Never Realm's Equinox Knight, Cal has been loaded up with expectations, promises, and hopes. While honored to have that lineage the young man is not too keen on being the golden boy of the Rock Fae. This has given him a somewhat laid-back and hands off approach to things. He stays in the back and mostly offers advice over going in head first himself. He's a pleasant and somewhat charming young man as well, even without the natural attraction Fae have. 

Quirks: Being a Fae, Cal cannot directly lie, he can talk around a topic like a lawyer but he cannot lie. He is also bound to the rule of three, if something is asked three times or promised three times he has to do it. He also has a liking to words games.

Fears: Pure Iron, the Fae Queens, being bound to anyone due to his Fae inability to break a promise.

Goal: Get out of his mother's shadow and live his own life.

Strengths: Cool under pressure, clever, and able to look at things from a warrior's mindset being the son of the Never's greatest warrior will give you that. Cal has the deep morality of his mother but not her deep sense of duty.

Weaknesses: His desire to not be the center of attention gives him an almost unmotivated vibe. He doesn't take initiative towards something unless he has to or he can manage to convince himself to do it. Having dealt with people telling him what he's supposed to be someday all the time, he has developed a dislike of listening to people.


COMBAT PROWESS

Combativeness: Cal is a balanced offensive and defensive fighter. Trained by Kana in the way of the warrior he is a strong, adaptable, and smart warrior.

Natural Talents: Being a Rock Fae, Cal has a number of natural talents.

Enhanced physical capabilities: Being of the physically strongest race of Sidhe despite his size, Cal has great strength, endurance, durability and hardiness compared to other Fae but he's not the fastest or most agile of the Fae.

Flight: Cal can fly at high speeds with his wings out.

Geo augmentation: He's at his strongest when near the earth and in a rocky area. But as long as there is earth beneath his feet he can still be a great asset.

Digging prowess: Much like a mole if he really wants to escape he'll disappear into the ground and dig his way to safety.

Language of the Stone: As silly as it sounds every kind of rock has a different voice and very much like a Forest Fae can tap into the voices of the tree around them, a Rock Fae can do the same with rock, though it takes longer, speed is just not a rocks way.

General control of Earth: Because Fae are more caretakers of nature than generals, Cal's power over rocks and earth is limited. He can still attack with them and use them to help him, but not as much or as powerfully.

Environmental Adaptation: Depending on the land around him, his body naturally changes to adapt to the climate.

Attraction: Being a full blooded Fae, Cal has an otherworldly charm and handsomeness. While only partially under his control it brings people around him more than he would like.

Golem Summon: Using his mother's charm Cal can summon Sir Blackstone to come to his aid. Because Sir Blackstone's power level is the same as Ca's, the golem will grow stronger as the boy does.


Skills: Cal is a strong warrior and stronger in terms of defense than his mother was at his age because he learned to use his Rock Fae skills earlier than her. His quick wit and ability keeps him outside of dire situations. Cal also has a strong and working knowledge of the Never Realm and all of it's residents, laws, and quirks as well as it's magic. He also knows modern First Aid, sewing, and tracking.

POWERS

Earth/Rock control

The ability to shape the rock and earth around him into any desired shape or use, and enhance his own abilities.

Tier 1

Tier 1
     
Rock Call Offensive: Cal can levitate rocks with his mind and create projectiles or crude weapons with them and make spikes of rock with it. He is fast in their forming but it still takes a few seconds to make it work.
       
Rock Shield Defensive: Cal can create shields and walls by ripping boulders out of the ground. He can also create rock barriers directly from the ground He is fast in their forming but it still takes a few seconds to make it work.
       
Earth Sense Passive: Cal can sense movement through the ground with 500 feet of him if there is actual earth under him even if it's through a layer of floor and concrete.

Sir Blackstone Activated: Sir Blackstone is like having a large silent animal on your side. He's strong, he's tough, and he can talk.

Tier 2

Tier 2
       
Rock Call Offensive: Cal's control over rocks is increased doublefold and he can shape them into slightly stronger and more refined looking weapons and more deadly rock spikes and ridges. His strength is also doubled while his physical speed and rock formation speed is only increased once over.
       
Rock Shield Defensive: Cal can form stronger and more refined shields from stone. And he can form more than one strong shield at a time The rock barriers are quicker to form and stronger. It also doubles his durability. And the same rock formation speed applies here.
       
Earth Sense Passive: Cal can now sense movement within 1000 feet and through thin metal.

Sir Blackstone Activated: Sir Blackstone's abilities are doubled.

Tier 3

Tier 3
       
Rock Call Offensive: Cal's control of rocks is increased one fold. The rock weapons are now formed into their strongest and most refined forms. Extremely strong stone and can become perfect copies of nearly all melee weapons. And the spikes are able to pierce most hides and armor.
       
Rock Shield Defensive: Much like Rock Call, this one has been maximized in terms of rock strength. His shields are perfect copies of actual shields only made of stone. The barriers can now withstand all physical attacks and some magical ones.
       
Rock Sense Passive: The range of the earth sense increases to 1500 feet and he can now sense through medium thickness metal.

Sir Blackstone Activated: Sir Blackstone's abilities are increased once over and he can do basic earth magic similar to what Cal does on Tier 1.

Tier 4

Tier 4
       
Rock Call Offensive: Cal's control over and the speed of his formation speed over earth doubles once more and he can now use rubies in his weapons and make them even deadlier and stronger. His strength is also doubled again and the spikes are now formed out of sharp rubies and jump up quicker.
       
Rock Shield Defensive: With his durability doubled and his control over his rock defenses supplemented by adding Sapphires into their construction Cal is quite tough to bring down. The rock barriers are quicker and made of sapphires.
       
Rock Sense Passive: The range is increased to half a mile and through slightly thick metal.

Sir Blackstone Activated: The golems abilities are doubled and he takes on rubies and sapphires into his body and weapons.

Tier 5

Tier 5
         
Rock Call Offensive: Cal's control is now absolute and second nature over earth and he can now make weapons out of diamonds. His strength is increased another fold and his rock formation ability is instantaneous. The spikes are instantaneous and made of diamonds that can penetrate all the but the strongest of magic defenses. 
       
Rock Shield Defensive: Along with the shields being made of diamonds he can now form a diamond shell around his body and have it act like a second suit of armor. His durability is also increased once over again. The barriers are instantaneous and made of diamonds that take massive magical attacks to sunder.
       
Rock Sense Passive: The rock sense's range is increased to a full mile in any direction and he can use it even if he's lock in massively thick metal box.

Sir Blackstone Activated: Sir Blackstone's abilities are tripled and his control over rock is equal to Cal's at Tier 4. He and his weapons are now made of diamonds.

Weapon

Weapon Name: The Hammer Gem
Weapon Type: Battle hammer
Material: Enchanted amethyst and mithril

Ammo: N/A
Length: 2 feet
Weight: 30 pounds
Weapon Description/Info: The Hammer Jem

EQUIPMENT

Special Items: Sir Blackstone's summon pendent.

Regular Items: A tactical pack that holds whatever supplies he could need on any given day. First Aid Kit, rope, camping kit, sleeping bag, and survival tools.


BACKGROUND

Bio/History: Born to Lady Kana and Lord Grazal of the Rock Fae Realm. Cal is the only son of this prominent family and the golden boy of the Rock Fae. Raised in a life of privilege and trained to follow in his parents' footsteps as a Warrior, a Mage, and a Lord. He excelled at the lessons but lacked the drive to do anything with them past pleasing his parents and teachers with his progress. He showed no interest in Fae Politics or in actually learning to be a Lord in the Sidhe Court.
He only wished to be left alone and excel under his skill without having the legacy of his parents winning half the battle for him. He loved them both dearly, but they cast long shadows. At first he tried to fight it and worked to prove himself to be his own person, but at each turn the people praised his training at the hand of his parents not his own skill. Eventually he just stopped fighting all together. He went through the motions, smiled at the praise, and took whatever reward he was given, but his heart just wasn't into it. As the years rolled on (which for a Fae is much longer than a human) all of his drive left him. He isn't lazy, he just lost the will to prove himself.

His mother has always been the hopeful type, and she remembered the days of her youth in the Human World. In the Never everything comes easy to a Fae, they have ambient magic swirling all around them to pull from. Kana remembered where she learned most of her tricks and trained herself into the warrior she is, it gave her the sense of duty and drive she needed to get where she is now. So it was decided that on Cal's 18th birthday he would be sent into the Human Realm in hopes he could settle his mind and come back ready to embrace his birthright.
As he arrived in the Human Realm Cal found the spark of desire slowly returning to him, here was someplace he could make his own name and be his own man.

Rivet

Name: Thomas Mulligan, but goes by Rivet
Age: 35
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description):

Rivet

6'7 weighing 300lbs (280 before the arms). While most of his body hasn't changed his arms are dull silver in color and cybernetic. He usually wears the black guard uniform of the full time Hanger Guards.

Race: Cyborg
Job: Scout

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Blend: Common within his race, Rivet is very capable of blending in and adapting to most of his surroundings.

Adaptation: Throughout the centuries humans have been plagued with diseases, famine, and near total annihilation, their genetic coding took all of this into consideration and naturally adapted them to their surroundings, even as those surroundings changed.

Double Strong man: Rivet's arms give him double the strength of a normal man of his side and build.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Scout: A lifetime before joining the Black Star he was roaming Scout for the Great Human Dominion. He fought in many battles and lived through each of them new skills learned and old skills improved Terrain association, map reading, tracking, etc.

Crackshot: His accuracy with all kinds of guns are honed through years of combat and won him a few shooting competitions.

Knife Fighter: In the same vein as his shooting skills, his skill with melee weapons and knives in particular are impressive, he can throw them with expert skill.

Survivor: Starting from his days in Basic Training, to surviving the underworld with the Privateers, Rivet knows how to survive on next to nothing in most places you can drop him.

Fitness: Always looking to improve himself Rivet has a rigorous exercise regimen that keeps him in the peak of physical condition. 


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Quasar Ranger Laser Rifle

Silver Star Laser Pistol

Zombie Slayer Machete

Armor(one sensible suit of armor):[hide= Dominion Scout armor]

Saved from his days in the army this armor protects him from bullets, melee attacks, lasers and some plasma rounds. The helmet also gives him an All-Terrain Re breather and night vision.[/hide]

Augs(Limit of 3): Two Adonis Cybernetic Arms: Given to him after he was injured in his last tour with the Dominion. The cybernetic arms give him added strength, are fantastically heat resistant, have a built in Geiger Counter, and are partially powered by his own moving body thanks to the kinetic mod. While still susceptible to EMPs they aren't rendered useless.


Personality: Rivet is a gentleman with blood on his hands. He's a trained killer, but goes out of his way to help someone especially women. Good sense of duty mixed with a quick mind for action and reaction.

Likes: Women, his duty, decimating in the firing range, relaxing with a good drink and good company.
Dislikes: Boredom, getting cheated, being used, getting blown up.

Background

Buried under years of repression and an ardent desire to not go into it lies the origins of Thomas Mulligan. Born on Dominion Prime  (a.k.a Earth), in the small city of Dura's backstreets. The eldest son of a low-class leg-breaker working for Johnny Malone of the Irish Mob and a good woman that somehow stayed with him  long enough to have and raise five children.

Thomas's mother, Mary was the closest thing to a Saint the young man had ever seen. And  even without the help of their father Alexander, aside from some money and when the kids got "useful" he would take them to work. She raised all five of their children to be decent enough individuals. Sadly the apples never fall too far from the tree, while his youngest Alice took after Mary, being as kind and good as the woman and protected by her against every form of vileness she had seen befall her other children. The other four siblings took to the dark streets following in Alex's shadowy footsteps even when it drove one of them to kill him.

His youngest brother Samuel or as he was known around Dura, Sammy Five Fingers. He was the smartest and quickest of the siblings got the best  grades and had enough heart and skill to get odd little jobs to help out. Sadly he was always looking for the next big challenge, and  excelling in school and fixing old computers wasn't enough for him. Alex, always being the opportunistic low-life turned young Sam onto life as a padfoot and drug mule at 10, he was also a thief, and when he could manage it an Accountant for black market dealers much at the encouragement of Alexander. He was shot in the head by a better prepared target at 15.

His next youngest brother Christopher was only a year older than Samuel and two older than Alice, but was forced down a very different path. He had gone missing from their house one day in August after his mother had gone to the store with little Sammy bouncing along on her back  leaving the boy alone despite knowing better. She would only be gone for a minute or so and Alex was due home, too bad he was drunk with his buddies at this time. Poor Chris though always being the best looking of the siblings was knocked out and kidnapped from his home. He renumbered very little between being knocked out and waking up, but when he did  awaken he found himself on a street corner dressed as a Boy Scout at 12 with condoms and lubricant jammed into his pockets. A large gruff looking man was standing behind him with a small bat in his meaty hand.
He tried to ask what was going on, but all his trouble got him was a sound smack across the mouth. What followed Chris never spoke of, even after  he was rescued and brought back home by some of Alex's associates three years later, the only decent thing he ever did for the boy. The pretty, rosy cheeked, boy was gone, in his place was a strung out husk of a young man with desperation and despair hanging over him like a cloak. He took his own life at 16.

Being only a few months younger than Thomas and a year older than Chris, was their eldest sister Rose. While she wasn't a Cutpurse or Prostitute, she was "Daddy's Little Girl" for  most of her life. She did anything and everything Alex asked, even when  it hurt both her and her mother. He liked Rose's red hair and well formed body, he even let his associates appreciate her in the same way. This continued for years until she got to the age 17, then he cast her  aside and she was lost without the attention.
It sent her into the arms of a number of older men, one she actually married. She was happy  even after the family saw bruises forming on her usually glowing features one day, Rose brushed it off. As the years went on though more bruises formed followed by some broken bones. The young woman kept believing it would end and eventually it did, on the eve of her 20th birthday the Mulligans found her in a hospital with a busted up face and so many broken bones it looked like she was run over by a bus. She died in that hospital bed at age 20. The husband died a few days later with  his face smashed in with a spiked baseball bat.

As bad as these three fates were Thomas's was arguably the worse. His life was a cloud  of ignorance at the horrors his siblings were going through. He had always been the biggest and strongest of them, as soon as he was growing facial hair he was indoctrinated into the world of being an Enforcer for the Irish Mob. Young Thomas worked long hours and was at the Mob's HQ more than he was home. He worked more jobs than Alexander did who was happy to just live off the glory of the Don's Rising Star that just happened to be his son. First by their father then by her husband, it was after Rose's funeral that Thomas was confronted with how much had happened that he could've stopped. He could've taught Sammy a better use for his brains, he could've been here to save Christoper from getting kidnapped, and he could've been there to bash the faces of his father and his friends from hurting Rosy. He wasn't though, he was collecting money and hurting people for Malone, as they lowered his sister into the ground something cracked in Thomas's 21 year old mind, he had to make this right. First thing was to avenge Rose, the husband was found drunk as a skunk in an alley and Thomas played Tee-Ball for the first time with the man's head.

Then came all of Alex's buddies that  violated Rose, they met similar ends at the hard end of a bat. The guys that kidnapped and pimped Chris out followed them, and lastly came Alex  himself. Killing his own father was the high-point and the end of Thomas's career as an Enforcer. The guys Thomas put down were scumbags on everyone's shit-list so they weren't missed and he was placed on another job helping his father out. They were supposed to collect from a big-time banker who had penchant for a certain kind of Irish Hooker, but didn't like paying on time. They were to go to his house and collect by any means necessary, Thomas had other plans though. As soon as they entered the banker's backyard he struck. A quick rabbit punch stunned Alex long enough for his son to tackle him to the ground. Alex had been a fighter and leg-breaker much longer than Thomas, so the young man's advantage didn't last long. Quickly bucking the boy off his back, Alex pounced onto him like a hunting cat and began pummeling the kid with all his might. Thomas was tough though, he took the hits until the old man was slowing down from all the work he wasn't used to.
As the old man slowed Thomas put all his rage into his next attack, smashing his head squarely into the man's nose he heard the appendage break with a loud crunch. With pain blinding him, Alex fell off the boy's barrel like chest and gave Thomas the chance to be the hunting cat. And he capitalized on it, rolling on top of Alex, pinning his father's hips and arms down. He continuously smashed his hard head into Alex's face, the old man fought back after the first few hits, but as the kept coming he stopped. Thomas had lost track of time punishing his bastard of a father. He didn't stop hitting the bloody pulp of Alexander Mulligan's head until the police pulled him off the corpse covered in blood, bone, and brain matter.

Thomas spent the month in prison as he waited for his trial, his mother and little sister visited often. He also got a visit from Johnny Malone himself, the mobster had taken a liking to Thomas and coming from a broken home himself saw a lot of himself in the boy. After what the kid had done Malone felt he and his remaining family deserved a chance at a better life. The Mob Boss talked with a friend from his days in the military and secured a spot for young Thomas in the Dominion's Army. With no better option on the bleak horizon Thomas said he'd take it if he was found Not Guilty. Malone assured him he would be, and as the month closed out it proved true, due to the young man's past he was acquitted of all charges even trespassing on the banker's property.

Through all this, many may ask why Mary stayed with the man that seemed intent on killing his own children himself or driving them to death at the hands of others. It was simple, she had hope that one day the suffering would end. And it did the day Thomas became a soldier and it has continued ever since. He's the wonderful honest man she knew he could be and he's done his siblings memory honor.The very next day, Thomas joined the army and used his sign-on bonus to move his mother and Alice who was quite the lovely teenager now to a better part of town. The next nine years of Thomas's life was spent killing more people and waging war against anyone he was pointed at.
He was hoping he could put killing behind him, but he was too good at it and not much else so he kept it up, right up until he got both his arms blown off. Doc Kari who was working as a Military Doctor at the time replaced them with his two Adonis Cybernetic Arms and he took his walking papers after he was put back on duty. He was glad to be done with killing, but as history as shown. "One with a past of violence will always find himself in the company of violence"  Rivet, as his squadmates called him after he killed an enemy that had ambushed him on leave with a Rivet gun. Was once more out of work with not much skill wise aside from war, he drifted around the galaxy doing odd-jobs and sending nearly all the money back home to his mother and sister. It was during this time he found the open Guard spot for the Black Star Privateers, he took it around the time Togga took over as Captain. Keeping some money for himself he sent the rest back home and now he's happy for once in his life.

Athos Raoul "Rook" LeBeau

Name: Athos Raoul "Rook" LeBeau
Age: 19

Height:6'0
Eye Color: red

Gender: male
Orientation: Straight

Side: Titan
Personality: Smooth, charming, a little cocky, but generally goodhearted and fun loving. Pretty much a younger version of his dad.

Appearance:

Rook

Powers & Abilities: He possesses the same powers as his father Gambit( ability to tap into energy and expel it in an explosive means enhanced agility and dexterity and great aim with small objects) and a  few of his mother Rogue's but only some of her strength and durability and he has an immunity to basic psychic attacks. He also has street smarts and street fighting skills.

Weakness: He has trouble controlling the energy he taps into often  resulting in violent backfires or humorous duds. Also still has trouble  syncing all his abilities into a cohesive machine.
Weapons: Cane sword and a few cases of game dies

History & Bio: Born to the X-Men Rogue and Gambit via artificial insemination(for obvious reasons). Rook was raised in the Xavier  Institute but traveled with Gambit around the world or at least when his powers weren't in a slump and threatening to blow up everything he touched. His training was about as varied as you'd expect what between his parents and the teachers at the mansion he acquired a vast array of skills, but soon he grew weary of all the books and classes. He wanted to actually use his powers and since the rest of the X-Men were either doing missions he couldn't take part in or not doing any at all he went in search of a group he could join namely the Teen Titans.

Other: His room is nothing special just a little splash of Cajun in the HQ.

Ezekiel Samson

Name: Ezekiel Samson
Age: 35
Gender:Male

The man and the beast

Human Form: Large and imposing 6'6 250lbs with brown hair a thick beard complete with handlebar mustache and brown eyes. He dresses in jeans, cavalry boots, military scout jacket, old cavalry stetson hat, cavalry gloves, and a blue union shirt most of the time.

Beast Form: The size of a T-rex covered in extremely thick red skin with a black mane. Eyes are pure white and his claws are strong enough to rend steel.

Outfit reference

close up

beast form

Race: Behemoth Earth Elemental
Job: Bounty Hunter of Manaridge

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4)

Earth Control: Wilful mastery over the earth element. I.E. levitating rocks, making sand walls.

Behemoth: The beast within, a form that can either be unlocked willingly or under duress which turns him into a huge savage creature named a Behemoth. All his abilities and powers are unleashed to their maximum potential.

Physically superior: In both human and beast form Ezekiel is superhuman in strength, speed, and durability.

Senses: Akin to that of a wild animal in many senses of the word Ezekiel has very keens eyes, hearing, and sense of smell.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Gunman: Life on the frontier means living by the gun. Be it a pistol or rifle Ezekiel is a crackshot and able to fire from the hip nearly as well as looking down the sights.

Survivor: As with the gun you need to know how to live off the land. From making fire, to foraging edible herbs, to hunting and skinning killed animals. Ezekiel can do it all.

Fighter: Earth Elementals are known for being strong hand-to-hand combatants. Ezekiel is a cruder version of this, but he can hold his own in most cases.

Lawman: Despite never wanting the job, Ezekiel needs to learns the laws of every town and territory he works in and this has turned him into Manaridge’s Sheriff. He can start his day hunting down a Banshee and end it by tossing a drunk Leprechaun into the storage shed turned jail cell by his house.

Loremaster: Being a hunter of supernatural creatures and magical beings comes with a need to hunt for the knowledge needed to harm and capture them. Ezekiel hates researching, but he still does it so he can bring in a good payday.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Repeating Rifle

Double action revolver

Volcanic Pistol

Bone handled Bowie knife


Armor(one sensible suit of armor): His natural skin.

Equipment: Bounty papers, badge, camping supplies, fresh water, spare clothes, extra ammo, gun oil, sharpening stone, various charms, trinkets, and special items needed for hunting monsters, and a  tent.

Personality: Tough and rugged, he doesn't stand for troublemaker and has no problem smacking one around if he sees them in action, but being the most infamous Bounty hunter in the territory he just needs to glare to get his message across most of the time.

Likes: Women, meat, getting the job done, wide open spaces, his guns, the desert

Dislikes: Losing his temper, alcohol, smoking, failing, big cities, closed in spaces, the ocean.

Background

Ezekiel’s family came over from the Russian part of Europe then under the name of Samovsky. They changed it to Samson after meeting some trouble in the East before moving to the West.

Earth Elemental Behemoths like his family were a common species out in Russia, but here in America there weren’t many. Earth Elementals here are more like Golems or Gnomes smaller and better at adapting than the lumbering beasts. But they were never easy to kill so while it took them longer to do it they adapted and easily fell into roles as hunters, miners, and in Ezekiel’s case a Bounty Hunter.

While his family did their best to keep him in check, Ezekiel was a troubled youth. He was out in the wilds causing trouble and killing what got in his way. Luckily it was mostly just animals like snakes and rabbits, but around age eight he took it too far. He and his father were out hunting for deer, now normally they were the only ones out, today though was different. Out with them was an old Gargoyle named Calabar and his son Dairgo, unlike many tales of their kind Gargoyles don’t turn to stone during the day. They are simply nocturnal, but a shortage of food forced the pair to be out during daylight.

Ezekiel was in a morose mood, more so than usual. His father had sent him ahead for drive the game towards him, but instead the young boy wanted to kill the animal himself. Unfortunately the young gargoyle had the same idea in mind. They met upon a grassy hill and that was the last thing the young Behemoth remembered before he was being pulled off the battered young boy both of them bleeding and wounded by the young Gargoyle was much worse off but her would live. By Behemoth law Ezekiel’s life was forfeit and in the hands of the Gargoyle’s father, blood for blood was their way, but the Gargoyle was a wise old man, his son was most dear to him, but his son was still alive so taking a life for it wouldn’t be just. So after the greatest beating of Ezekiel’s life his debt was repaid. And after he recovered the Gargoyle took him on as a student. The Gargoyle was once a prominent lawman himself, but age had begun to wear on him and he had retired to raise a family. His son was also his pupil, but there was only so much they could practice just himself and his father. So having another student the boy’s age would be a boon.

This began Ezekiel’s training not only as a Bounty Hunter, but a man of self control and discipline. Calabar died many years ago, but Dairgo is still around and Ezekiel often seeks the male’s help or company should he need it. [/hide]

Other: While not a virgin Ezekiel must practice control and often abstinence so as not to let loose the monster inside of him.

[Wilderness Soul]

Time for the monthly bump! No new characters this time, but a couple of ideas and changes. A former Raving is getting dropped into Ruminations, a couple of new Rumination are being added, a new slightly complex Requiem, a new Raving being born from that Requiem. Also updating a few small things in the OP itself as I have gained more experience in RPing via IMs and might be willing to give some a shot now. Still looking for one story so let's see who takes the bait!

Firstly my Raving "Cyberpunk: One I've been looking to do for awhile. Pretty basic idea, set in the world of the Cyberpunk 2077 video game. Open to pretty much the whole idea of using the world. But don't have a set in stone story for it, but welcome to ideas." Is getting moved to Ruminations, I still love and want to play the idea. But it has fallen a little bit down the list against my other Ravings, especially considering Sci-Fi/Futuristic doesn't seem to be very popular genres on E from my wanderings about this funfilled site. Sad, but such is life.

Ruminations +2

Cowboy Bebop/Trigun: These are two of my favorite animes of all time and I would love to try and think of a story inspired by these two shows. Likely not copy and paste combination of them, but a lone bounty hunter in space with an augmented gunarm running from the bounty on his head. Or a group of misfits scrambling to try and claim bounties while running from the trouble they've caused. Somewhat like my BSP idea, but without the pre-made world I created. This could be much more open to world building and mismashing stuff from the animes.

Househusband: In my many wanderings about E I have found I particularly like the idea of domestication. I know damn weird on a Kinky sex site. XD, but everyone is looking for a waifu story. So I think a husbando story could be an interesting shot to try, though the story will no doubt have dark or less wholesome theme and MC will be far from the whimsy househusband sitting on pins and needles until his woman comes home, he'll be a homebody happy to watch over the homefront rather than be on the frontlines of life.

Another version of this could be a slightly more kinky idea where MC is a servant to YC and while in public he is fully subservient to her, once they get home the table is flipped and she becomes his happy little sex slave.

Complex Requiem and new Raving

This is kind close to the Cowboy Bebop/Trigun story, the protags will be different as will the world be, but if all three ideas strike your fancy lets see what kind of space opera drama we can make.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cEP1U5yFwyE&t=283s

In all honesty this entire album could make a damn fun RP to make, the songs all tell a great story and with some thinking you can connect each song as a different chapter in the life of a protagonist going from obscurity to fighting a tyrant and losing the first battle and being forced into the life of piracy to get back what was once lost and possibly free the new human colonies out across the stars from the mad Tyrant.


But the song that really gets my creative fires going is this one and this is what will go in the Raving spoiler.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MtS1vXPkRzQ

The Rush towards Salvation: It's my favorite song on the whole album and I think it really has the juice to make a good long story from. We can play refugees on the Ark as it leaves the final destruction of earth and the whole RP can take place aboard the Ark doing various space things as we rush towards our final goal of the new Earth. Or we can be the scouts sent out by the Ark to hunt up resources for the Ark while we hunt for our new perfect home. We can even be pioneers on the New Earth and do a kind of Space Western story.

I would also be willing to play the characters we follow in the music video. A young family living onboard the Ark simply living the life they now have fighting to stay positive and happy despite being trapped in a giant tin can speeding through space running away from the fiery death of Earth struck low from the good life they had now stuck among the teeming masses alongside the scoundrel and cutthroats that had made it aboard the Ark.

[Wilderness Soul]

Time for the monthly bump! I am adding the Mass Effect Trilogy to my list of favored fanfictions section. So open to ideas for a story set in that universe! Even got a few real good chars and stories in mind for it!

Got a couple new Requiems, as well as a few new characters including some female ones! Which I will put in a new spoiler dubbed "Recast Females" Looking for two new stories so let's see who takes the bait!

Requiems +2

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zodHltkgK1w

Religious or no there is something enthralling about listening to men at war or coming home from war singing their worries and sorrows into the rain with no other goal, but to keep putting one foot in front of the other. This kind of world really has endless possibilities for exploration and it can be used in any setting or time as war is an eternal state.

The road is a rutted and muddy mess. Heavy boots clomp and squish through the muck, war never changes, only the locations and weapons. Be it the godless dunes of a distant desert or the gray clouded skies of home, for as long as there have been people there have been conflict. And now one more battlefield awaits, will it be fought with Swords and Shields? Might and Magic? Divinity and Havoc? No one knows, but all that is known is no one will leave the bloodied field whole.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=10P52OzMwTc

An ancient village deep in the forgotten lands of a place lost in time. The natural and supernatural live in harmony, where a flute playing scarecrow or row of grinning skeletons waving at you are as normal as a farmer bringing a load of hay to the marketplace or a group of children running through the browning grass and fallen leaves of autumn. Many say such a place is impossible, but if you know the ancients pathways and can read the moon runes left by the Queen of Autumn you can find out just how possible the impossible really is.

Watched over by the King of the Pumpkin patch while his Queen is away, Alusia is a state of perpetual Autumn. The trees are always the blazing rainbow of reds, yellows, orange, and browns and while leave continuously fall whenever the wind blows they are never bare. It's the peaceful place between life and death, but the natural courses of the Seasons cannot be stopped forever. Will the mystical denizens of Alusia be able to keep the Claws of Winter at bay or stop the Blazes of Summer from consuming them? Only one story can tell, will we write it together?

Recasts +6 including new female characters!

Clive "Rooster" Chance

Name: Clive Chance
Age: 24
Gender: male

Appearance(pic and description)

Rooster

Rooster, the man, the myth, the guy, who is only 5'6 and weighs a limber 135lbs. Built like a jackrabbit with the pride of a Rooster. Clive's attitude reflect his style choices too, his hair is spiky, his clothing is cool and a combination of leather and fine cotton. His eyes mischievous and brown and his lips curled in a perpetual smirk.

Race: Mutant Human
Job: Freelance Smuggler

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Natural Adaptation: If there is one thing humans are good at besides tearing themselves apart, it's adapting to their environment.

Blending In: Thanks to the fact that humans have populated the universe now, most planets, Clive can blend in pretty well, simply because of his race.

Sound mimicry: A mutant ability from birth. Rooster can mimic many sounds he's heard, animals calls, machinery, and even sound effects like the sound of machine gun fire.

Lucky: A possible phantasmal mutation. Clive has had strangely random and potent luck his entire life.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Clever Scoundrel: Years of running around the galaxy have certified Rooster in every clever ways and street-wise skills of the Rogue. Like pick-pocketing, lockpicking, etc

Sharp-Shooter: Despite being a mostly run and gun type of guy, when he's able to take the time he is a good shoot with rifles and pistols.

Hand Weapons expert: Whether it's knives, bats, or hatchets. Rooster is good at using their miniature weapons of mass destruction and is a good dual wielder.

Pilot: While land and sea vehicles leave him at a lose, air and space ones are second nature to him. From Airplanes to Spaceships if it has wings Rooster can work it.

Security Expert: Years of stealing things and spying have turned Rooster into an expert when it comes to beating any security network short of Skorne Master Security systems.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Pluggers: A pair of pistols that fire normal rounds and can fire Electro-Slugs that lob EMP pellets out and can fry cyborgs and robots.

The Rooster's Spurs: The knives in the pic made of a very strong and sharp alloy.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor) Rooster has little use for most armor, but he does carry a jacket and a pair of pants that are bullet and knife proof.

Equipment: Money, spare change of clothes, fire starting kit, hacker's PDA, flashlight, weapon maintenance kits, extra ammo, contracts, job related documents, and rope.

Augs(Limit of 3): None

Personality: Lovable and energetic Rooster has been called a child trapped in the body of a slightly larger child. While he is capable of being serious, it isn't his first choice. He enjoys life and he makes sure everyone around him knows it, whether it's making jokes or pulling pranks a day with Rooster is a day with a madman. But he does take his work serious and always delivers the goods.

Likes: Women, money, stealing, flying, partying, relaxing, laughter, and pranks.

Dislikes: The Law, Bounty Hunters, getting caught, stress, silence, losing a job, being poor.

Background

Clive was born on Dominion Delta, the fourth planet founded by the Great Human Dominion. Off near the edge of the Regison quadrant and under the influence of a medium range blue star. The higher levels of radiation have had a distinct impact on the residents of Dominion Delta.

Every resident on this planet is a mutant. In fact Delta has been called the Goldilocks Zone of mutants. The mutations are helpful and very few are disfiguring, ranging from enhanced strength to genius level intelligence. Clive, his sister Clara, and their parents Clark and Cassandra are no different. Even in a society where the more mutations you have the more power you have, this never slowed the family down. Each only has one mutation, but have worked themselves neck deep into the politics of Delta.

A politician, a merchant empress, a smuggler, and an assassin. These are the varied and powerful jobs Clive and his family have won by skill and ruthlessness. Clive's future was chosen fairly early on, he'd always been a mischievous boy with sticky fingers so an occupation of Thievery was the best route.

From slipping out of the candy store with a few extra lollipops at six, to stealing cars at sixteen, to stealing his first million dollar spaceship at twenty. Rooster was good at stealing things and this was used by his parents. The best merchandise for his mother's store and nabbing state secrets for his father and stealing some cool G's on the side for himself and Clara. Now at twenty-four Rooster is one of the best Thieves and Smugglers in his region quadrant and also one of the most-wanted men by the Galactic Alliance. Even spending most of his life on the run Rooster doesn't let things get him down, life's a game. And once you've stolen the rule book it's nearly impossible to lose.

Other: Surprisingly Rooster is a man looking to settle down before he get blown to bits trying to smuggle some illicit goods from one Scoundrel Colony to another, but his life doesn't leave much time for romance.

Forcebreaker the Forsaken

Name:Forcebreaker
Titles and/or Aliases: The Forsaken, F.B., Breaker, or Force.
Role: Assistant to the Elders
Age: 45

Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Species: Inkkin
World: Nyx (the Inkkin homeland under the surface of Earth)

Height: 6'2
Weight: 230lbs

Appearance

Forcebreaker

[/URL] A man of smouldering stare and self-reliant disposition. Forcebreaker was born an outcast, taught himself to use the inexplicable MagInks he was branded with, and has learned to trust himself before anyone else. His body is a war machine sculpted from stone and burning with a power unknown to anyone but the Pillar and Beacon in his homeland.

Armor/Clothing: His only armor is the large shield in the pic, but his clothing consists of the above cloak, kilt, and boots.

Personality: Extremely independent and wary of everyone. Breaker has been alone most of his life, fighting Darklights, trading with outlying towns, and generally avoiding both the Lightbringers and Aurora Guard. While not unapproachable it takes a special type of crazy to stand the Forsaken's presence for long.

Phobias/Fears

Forcebreaker only has two fears.

Becoming a Darklight: A fear shared by all Inkkin, if he burns up his essence his MagInk goes dark and he becomes the mindless monster he spent most of his life fighting.

Never knowing: A fear singular to F.B., from birth he has had the unknown MagInk of Force branded to his body. And he fears he'll never know how it happened, why it happened, or what it means.

Goals/Desires: Find out about his unique MagInk and learn about his origins. This is what brought him up from Nyx and to his position as assistant to the Elders of the Order.

Skills

Peak Physicality: Like all Inkkin, Breaker is at the peak of human prowess,he has the strength, endurance, speed, agility and durability of the very best human athletes.

Enhanced senses: Breaker's eyes are as keen as a cat's and able to see in total darkness as well his other senses are near superhuman as well.

Sword and shield: Forcebreaker is master of the sword and shield.

Fighter: He is a very capable and powerful fistfighter.

Survivor: Breaker is born survivor complete with the skills needed to keep himself and others alive in many environments.

Powers/Abilities

Force MagInk: A unique and largely unknown MagInk. It doesn't belong to either school of Creation or Elemental. F.B. can summon up what he can only call his Essence in a very punishing physical form. He can use this MagInk to Crush, Push, Pull, or Rip.

Crush: Summoning his MagInk, Breaker can throw out an immense power that if focused is maintained can crush foes or objects. A foe stronger than his MagInk can resist the attack, but will be immobile until his focus is broken.

Push: Possibly a weaker version of Crush, F.B. can blast out his MagInk and throw enemies or objects away from himself and others. Heavier foes or objects won't go as far.

Pull: The opposite of Push, Pull can yank people or objects in and dispatch them in other ways. But like Push heavier foes or things won't go very far.

Rip: A very powerful, but also very draining ability. Rip combines the effects and Push and Pull and can physically tear people or things apart. This requires steady concentration and can still be resisted if the target is strong enough.

Life Energy Sensor: Due to the nature of his MagInk, Breaker can sense life force and energies. Though he has not trained this ability as much as he has the offensive aspects.


Weapon(s): His MagInk aside Forcebreaker's primary weapon is the rune embedded sword in his picture. It makes the sword both very sharp and very durable.

Brief History:

Forcebreaker's life is a constant painful memory. His earliest memories are of him in short pants and staring into the dark abyss of a cave with his entire body glowing and racked with pain. Next he assumed his eyes closed and he awoke an unknown time later, this time he was facing the gentle glow of Blue Night(Nyx equivalent of daytime). His body still glowed, but the pain was a more easily ignored all body aching.

The next few years of the young boy's life was a endless example of learn quick or die. He had no adults to guide him. No Lightbringers to teach him about his MagInk nor any Aurora Guard to teach him out to fight and survive. He did it all on his own and he thrived, adversity is the greatest teacher he soon learned. With each day he grew to understand his Ink's power even if it's origins and purpose were phantoms to his young mind.

Growing his body and mind he chose the name Forcebreaker and took to the life of an unofficial wandering Dark Watcher. He hunted Darklights, he hunted treasure, and he hunted the Glowbeasts. But as the years grew long and his name was becoming legend he began thinking more on his origins and the origins of his unique MagInk which despite his questions to friendly Lightbringers or what texts he could scrounge up said was without precedence. This drive is what brought him to the surface and to the Elder Order, he showed them his skill and they promised him answers as soon as they could find them. Until then though he would serve as Assistant and occasional Bodyguard to many of the Elders. Now with the threat of the Seals being broken looming on the horizon he is tasked with seeking out the Archites and aiding them as he has aided the Elders many times in the past.

Redwing the Fallen

True Name: Stricken from all holy records
Chosen Name: Redwing the Fallen

Age: Ageless
Gender: male

Appearance(pic and description)

Redwing

7 feet tall, 260 pounds of warrior muscle, with a 9 foot wingspan. Dressed in armor above with continuously bloody wings. His hair is straight, blond, and reaches past his neckline. His eyes were once blue and full of clarity and purpose, but now they are as red as the angry dusk.

Race: The Fallen Angel of Justice

Job: Former Avenger

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Angelic Might: Even a fallen angel retains their physical power.

Wings: Redwing has wings still, and as such he can still fly with great speed and skill.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Fallen Warrior: Despite losing the favor of the Lord, Redwing is still a world class warrior and masterful in many disciplines.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Cold Justice: His only weapon is the fiery blade of justice in the pic albeit it's fire has been extinguished it is still an otherworldly powerful sword.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor)

The Armor of the Fallen: The armor in the pic, it has lost it's power against many evils. But it can still ward off many attack both mundane and magic.


Personality: Though formally a being of pure intention and just personality. The anger at seeing all the injustice of the world has turned Redwing into an angry creature quelled only by eons of training and control keeping him from using all his powers and abilities to rain fire and brimstone down upon the world. He's remained a good and caring person, but much harsher and much less forgiving.

Likes: Justice, destroying evildoers, and his training.
Dislikes: Evil, demons, his fellow comrades, not fighting.

Background: As a Fallen Angel, Redwing may have less power but he has all his memories and the burning knowledge that he is the instrument of his own destruction. He allowed himself to get too close to his duty and it caused him to sin and be cast down to earth.

Ever since he's become a guarded individual that refuses to talk of his past and focuses only on the now. But without the binds of Angelhood keeping him in check he has been indulging the anger that had caused his downfall. Now he is a Semi-Divine vigilante fighting the evil of the world with just his conviction and his blade.

Other: As an angel, he was supposed to be chaste and virginal. But since he's been on Earth he has engaged in some more mortal pleasures so as to deepen his knowledge and experience with the evil of the world.

Nikadeama

Name: Nikadeama
Nickname: Nika
Age: 32
Gender: Female
Race: Sunfighter

Appearance Description/Photograph:

Nika

She is 5'10 and weighs 140lbs of lean muscle. When not in combat she dresses in long white robes and Greek style sandals.

Orientation: Bisexual
Side:Council

Element: Fire

Fire Mystic Abilties

Fire Control: Nika can control fire with total prowess and skill. This is greatly helped by her natural fire control.


Enhanced Fire Fight: She can shoot fireballs or jets of flame out of her hands, eyes, and mouth.


Enhanced Flaming Sword: She can form weapons out of flames they can cut through all materials that aren't protected by strong magic.


Enhanced Flaming Shield: She can form shields and armor out of flames they can protect from attacks that aren't magically potent.


Smoke Power: Nika can now use smoke to create tendrils and shields to attack and defend.


Enhanced Smokescreen: She can create smoke out of thin air and have a greater effect and control rather than just setting the area ablaze.


Thermal Control: Her body is always many degrees hotter than the normal human and it never changes. [/hide]

Sunfighter Abilities

Natural Fire Control: As a Sunfighter she has a natural affinity to control fire and smoke.


Greater Enhanced Physical prowess: Her natural prowess is tripled upon attaining the Spear of Helios.


Night Vision: She can see in the dark like a cat or like a snake.


Light Control: Her control of light is increased to that of a full sized spotlight and around ten flash bang grenades.


Enhanced Flight: She can fly at speeds upwards to Mach 5.


Enhanced Fire Charge: Due to her training in Sun Fist she can rapidly heat  up her muscles to be quicker, stronger, and more durable. With the spear the increase of her power is doubled and it lasts longer.  The downside  is though if it goes on for too long she will be greatly fatigued and  eventually it'll render her immobile. With the spear the downside is less drastic but it still wears on her.

Spear of Helios

Six feet tall and able to shoot beams of fire at enemies.

Spear of Helios: The weapon used by the God of the Sun to fight the darkness many eons ago. It can be used as something of an empowerment item that enhances a person's natural skill with fire and make them more powerful against opposing elements.

Mundane Skills

Hand-to-hand combatant: Like all of her people she is highly skilled in the fighting style of her people, the Sun Fist. It combines quick strong strikes with fire empowered muscles.

Competent weapon fighter: She is skilled with her sword and many other weapons.

Survivor: She knows how to survive in a number of hostile environments.

Skilled in Guerrilla Warfare: She is an expert in hit-and-run tactics and ambushes.


Weapon: The sword in the pic primarily, but she can use most kinds of weaponry well.

Personality: She is untrusting of those she doesn't know but when she warms up to them she is loyal to a T. She is also a mostly pleasant individual and enjoys playing her flute during down time.

Brief History: Born among the first tribe of the Sunfighters to venture out of their own dimension and over into this reality. The Sunfighters are too new to the Elder Council's war to be represented, Nika and a couple of her fellow warriors were sent to this dimension to scout out it's possibilities of being a second home for her people. They have only been in this dimension for a few years and it is already proving to not be the best place for them. If they wanted to battle evil they would've stayed beyond the Day Sky River.

They have been fighting their own dark enemies for Eons, the Fearstalkers. These two races are neighbors beyond the Sky River and have been a war ever since they were created. While no Fearstalker has been seen fighting for Mahvalli, Nika and her warriors will be on the look out for them. With this pedigree they are slightly more prepared to fight Mahavalli's dark army.

Torch Wolfblade

Name: Wolfblade
Age: 32
Gender:Female
Rank: Torch

Appearance(Pic or Description):

Wolfblade

6 foot even weighing 135 lbs eyes are a silvery color.

MagInk(school, actual tats, and abilities):

Creation School

Down her entire left arm This is her primary weapon, it forms into a solid black blade once she's summoned it.

Over her ribs on the right side
This is her usual tandem effect with the sword, it become a solid black shield.

Underside of both forearms
These are her secondary and close quarters weapons, like the rest of her tats become solid black when summoned.

Takes up her whole back She summons a pure black wolf to fight for her.

Non-MagInk gear: She carries a pair of normal steel swords that she hangs around her belt.

Non-MagInk skills/abilities: Highly skilled swordswomen and leader. She's tough as they come and very good with her hands.

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

History: Born to a devout family, growing up Wolfblade knew the Beacon's word was law above the Pillar's. Her family were the first to worship and the last to leave every day. She grew up knowing the Temple was always right that's why it didn't bother her when she got a wolf pup as her first MagInk at age two, even though she thought the Elemental School was far superior to the Creation School. Despite this though she had no choice so with a black wolf pup watching her back she began on the path she was meant for.

She was to be trained as a Lightbringer, the force behind the Beacon's words. She trained with the wolf pup and soon discovered her natural skill for blade, swords in particular. Excelling with the weapons she was granted a second Ink at age six the sword that goes down her left arm. While not uncommon for those in her situation it still made her the cool kid for a few years she even added blade to her name of Wolf.

With two Inks she marched confidently into adolescence, she even had herself a sweetheart to go home with, he was Foxdagger, And like her, he was a Creator with a skill in blades weapons, he was to daggers that Wolf was to swords. They were even serious enough to get their third MagInks together and have them match. They each got matching daggers Wolf on the underside of her left arm, and Fox got one under his right arm. They had plans to graduate Lightbringer training together and marry, but just as they were about to take the final vows of their training a Senior Lightbringer took a liking to Foxdagger and forced herself upon the seventeen-year old man.

Now in this society such a thing wasn't unheard of. As servants of the Gods the Beacon and Lightbringers were expected to mate and have many children. And being holy beings it wasn't considered being unfaithful if the individual was married. In fact Wolf had more siblings from Lightbringer Icequake than her own father. There was just something about it happening to you though that just seems wrong. After it happened she could see the life vanish from her young lover's eyes. The next day he was gone and his parents had no clue where he went. It was too much for the young woman, she hunted down the Lightbringer that ravaged Foxdagger and gutted the woman in her sleep.

Before the body was even cooled Wolfblade was fleeing the city, something told her Foxdagger was alive and out past the city limits. She would find him and they would be outcasts together. Her plan wasn't meant to succeed though, she was caught by some members of the Aurora Guard. None of them had any love for the Temple or the Lightbringers so they had no problem taking the young woman into their ranks. In memory of her Foxdagger she got a second dagger like the other one under her left arm. This was her fourth Ink and the beginning of her new life.

The years passed and she worked her way up to the rank of Torch in the Aurora guards and took a shield as her last MagInk. Now at 32 she is the leader of her own squad and personally asked by the Pillar to embark on a quest to find the sun and end the tyranny of the Beacon and his Lightbringers, even if it means being body and soul against her family.

Personality: Wolfblade is as dedicated to the Pillar as the Beacon's minions are to him. She takes pride in her job and considers it the highest honor to guard the true ruler of the Inkkin. As tough and rocky as she seems though she's a kind woman with a soft spot for the weak and oppressed. She's tempted the wrath of the Lightbringers numerous times in the past trying to stop them from exercising "divine right" over the huddled masses of Nyx.

Saoirse

True Name: Stricken from all unholy records
Chosen Name: Saoirse

Age: Ageless
Gender: female

Appearance(pic and description)

Saoirse

Saoirse is your typical Upper Hell Demon. She's very attractive and sports two curved black horns and black feathered wings. Usually dressed as above she is a woman of average height 5'6 and a supple weight of 130 pounds of lithe muscle. Her skin is dusky and almost feverishly warm to the touch at all times. Her eyes were once pure black orbs in her skull, but as she has begun to try and redeemed herself they have taken on a more human appearance with white around the pupil and they've become a chocolate brown color.

Race: Gray Demon(a demon trying to redeem their past ways)

Job: Former Tormentor

Racial Skills and Abilities (limit of 4)

Demonic Might: Saoirse still retains her superior physical capabilities even after forswearing Lucifer and his realm.

Wings: Saoi has wings still, and as such she can still fly with great speed and skill.

Charisma: Being a former demon of lust, Saoirse is extremely charming and charismatic. Though she rarely uses these traits to their full potential they can get her out of much trouble.

Resistance: Being a Demoness, Saoirse is immune to not only fire, but all kinds of dark or mind magic. This extends to artifacts of a dark or psychic nature.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Thief: Saoi is a master thief, she can steal the pants off a fully aware guard.

Dual-Wielding: After taking to the discipline of using a rapier like blade and dagger, Saoi is very skilled at using this deadly quick style to fight off troublemakers.

Thrown: She can throw her rapier, dagger, and normal throwing weapons with good skill and accuracy.

Lockpicking: No lock is unpickable and no safe uncrackable. Saoirse can get into anything.

Poison: Having lots of time on her hands with a lot of otherworldly ingredients to play with Saoi is highly skilled at making poisons.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons)

Hellfang The sword in her pic, it's made of an enchanted obsidian found only in the deepest regions of hell. It's stronger than the strongest metal known to man and can cut finer than a razor.

Asmodeus's Nail: The parrying dagger in the pic made of the same material as Hellfang and is used with great skill alongside her sword.

Poison Spikes: Five small metal spikes kept around her person that she often dips in a highly virulent poison that can kill someone in seconds.


Armor(one sensible suit of armor)

Temptress's half-mail: As much her clothing as armor, the outfit in her picture works well as a Rogue's light armor and adds another level of enchanted protection. It gives her added protection against some magic spells and many mundane weapons.


Personality: A Demoness of Lust, even a former one shares the personality of her sisters. She's seductive, passionate, deviously charismatic, and a master of manipulation. Though she has been trying to break away from the stereotype for many centuries. Seductiveness has simmered down to simple cuteness, passion has become simply goal-oriented, devilish charisma became friendly, and manipulation became being able to read and not use it against them. But because Demons aren't meant to feel anything but the joy in tormenting Sinners for eternity.

Saoirse has changed though now she feels little more than regret and sorrow for her own sins. And that infectious kernel of hope that she can be better than what she was.

Likes: Training with her blades, trying to help people, justice.
Dislikes: Her origins, Hell, other Demons, The Morningstar, doing bad.

Background: Saoirse's early life has been stricken from all records, and even her own memories have been altered to be hazy the longer she stays on this path of redemption. But what she can remember clearly are dreams that showcase her past a a tormentor for the Level of Hell reserved for those guilty of Lust.

Cutting up genitals, scarring bodies, and teasing sinners with promises of freedom until they admitted every sin they committed then going back to tormenting them until she could feel their souls break and their hopes shatter. Back then she gained endless joy at their suffering, but now her own heart beats with despair and regret. Leaving Hell behind her she tries to help people here on Earth who still have a chance at redemption.

Other: Being a Tormentor of Lust doesn't leave any room or trust open for real relationships. But in Hell there isn't much to do but torment sinners and fuck so she knows her way around the bedroom.

[Wilderness Soul]

Simple update, just adding five more characters to Recast. Sadly no new story ideas have jumped out at me, but who knows where my brain will go now that I have more free time on my hands.

Ni-Sai

Name: Ni-Sai
Class: Night Blade
Age: 36 Summers
Sex: Female
Race: Argonian

Appearance: 5'7, 125lbs, black scales, with purple lines going from her  bright yellow eyes to the back of her deeply curved gray horns. Before  the chains she usually dressed in good conditioned leather armor when  not working for the Brotherhood which she wore her usual Shrouded armor  and hood. Her body is extremely curvy and she's more than happy to show  off her perfect physique to distract guards long enough to steal away  some extra food or a confiscated shiv. But unwanted advances from anyone  will result in her sinking both her teeth and claws in and ripping huge  chunks from anyone bothering her.

Personality: Rather peppy and cheerful despite being a Shadowscale and  trained from hatching to kill without remorse and vanish as quick as a  shadow.
Background: Rogue

Bio:As is the norm for all Argonians born under the sign of the Shadow  she was taken from her hatchery and trained to be a killer nothing more,  nothing less. She knows how to kill with every part of her body and  every weapon on the plane of Nirn but she prefers the elegance of the  bow. And naturally she was accepted into the Dark Brotherhood without  delay once she was old enough to leave her native Black Marsh. And it  was actually on one of these missions she was captured and sent to work  in this miserable mine a botched murder of a Khajiit woman that saw her  fleeing from another murder in nearby Windhelm. Nothing very big but the  woman was pregnant maybe the long dead motherly instinct stopped her  just long enough for the woman to escape and the guards who had been  hunting her caught up and beat her senseless then tossed her like a dead  horker into the mine

Though they have stripped her of her favorite weapons and armor they  all soon found out they were simply tools to make her job easier. She  didn't need them to rip anyone but the best of warriors apart. Being one of the few beast-people in the mine she developed a close friendship with the warrior Khajiit named Ra'Jiit. They watch each other backs from lusty guards and as well as the more desperate of the prisoners.

Skills:
Novice: Block, Smithing, One-Handed, Two-Handed, Heavy Armor, Destruction, Alchemy, Illusion, Conjuration, Enchanting
Apprentice: Lockpicking, Alteration, Light Armor, Pickpocket, Restoration, Sneak
Adept: Archery
Expert:
Master:
Preferred Faction: Dark Brotherhood
Preferred Allegiance: None but the Brotherhood

Do'Magazo

Name: Do' Magazo
Race: Khajiit(Cathay-Raht i.e. Jaguar-man)
Age: 28
Gender: Male
P.o.B: Riverhold, Elsweyr
Occupation: Caravan Guard and Former Pirate.

Appearance (pic or description): 

Do'Magazo

6'7, 220lbs, pure white fur with black markings he has a solid healthy body, has four gold earrings in both of his ears and his mane is black like his markings and perfectly braided and clean, his eyes are an autumn orange.

Equipment(pic or description):  Well-made and highly tempered Steel Armor minus the helm. He carries a well tempered Elven Bow with a surplus of 30 arrows, an Elven saber with a Health Sap enhancement, dagger and shield all highly tempered. Outside of battle he usually wears well fitting shirts, pants, and boots. He carries spare clothes, potions, a lucky Ebony amulet that his father gave him which was presented to him by the legendary warrior Allester Winterblade as thanks for saving the Nord's life, around 1,000 septims, and a secret stash of moon sugar.

Prime Skills: Archery and One-Handed
Secondary Skills: Heavy Armor, Block, and Speech

Personality: Extremely kind and noble. Being a highly trained warrior he often avoids conflict with anyone he views as weaker than he not wanting to look like a bully. But when up against someone on his level or even above it he's merciless and lightning quick in combat.

Background: Born the oldest of a six cub litter he was pushed into the role of surrogate caregiver and provider for his siblings. Their father was a traveling merc and their mother was Caravanner like most Khajiit that don't turn to thievery to get by, so he and his siblings grew up on the road learning both the Caravan trade and surviving in the various climates of Tamriel. Magazo took particular interest in the way of the blade learning from the other guards in his mother's caravan as well as any wanderer that took time out of their day to shop the Caravan's more exotic wares.

This was where he met the legendary warrior Allester accompanied by his father Do'Gezit on one of their song worthy adventures passing through Riverhold. They were both dressed in Ebony Armor and wielded similar weapons they looked like figures straight from legend and the way their armor shone in the sunlight was the final spark the young man needed to set his life's path as a warrior. Lord Winterblade taught him so many things he didn't even know were real and by the end of the month he was begging them both to take him on at least one adventure.

At first they were set on saying no speaking of the endless dangers in the land and how a boy of 13 wouldn't last long against most of them but using the legendary cleverness of his people he managed to warm them up to the idea and thus began the Prince of the Wilderness's reign in the hills and forests of Southern Tamriel. He had set paw in every province and nearly every city in the south and had learned much about his chosen profession even traveling with Lord Winterblade and his father from time to time.
In that time Magazo had stumbled upon the nearly forgotten martial art of the Whispering Fang, along with the Redguard, the Khajiit are well known for their skill in hand-to-hand combat. He was on a mission for the Riverhold Fighter's Guild slogging through the deep jungles of Elsweyr sent to retrieve a lost family heirloom of some kind that the fool son had lost playing adventurer. He was hot on the trail of the item when he found himself on the edge of a Pirate's camp staring at the golden necklace he was supposed to recover. He was only 17 at this point and still young enough to think he was unstoppable. Sneaking into the camp he had almost managed to get the amulet before he felt heavy hand chop a his neck and dropped him like a bag of rocks.

He awoke tied to the mast of a ship at sea with a heavily scarred and ornamented Cathay-Raht leering at him. This was Dar Ri'sallidad or the Thief Martyr as he sometimes called himself, he was the Captain of the Wave Saber a rebel Privateer from Khenarth's Roost working with the Maormer trying to free Elsweyr from the Thalmor. At first Dar wanted to kill young Magazo, but according to him he saw too much of himself in the young Khajiit and he loved himself too much to kill the kid. So instead he took Magazo on as a Cabin-Boy and Deckhand. It was a mostly Khajiit crew with a few of the strange looking Maormer being masters of the sea helping them. It was on this crew of rebels Magazo not only excelled at being a Warrior and Sailor but earned his title of Do. Dar taught him everything he knew about the Whispering Fang Martial Art the strikes, the footing, making sure to look for openings and how best to capitalize on them. The Whispering Fang is a dangerous art that specializes in ending fights quickly with joint attacks but temper the fighter with controlled movements.

From 17 to 23 Magazo was a crewman aboard the Wave Saber, and joined them on numerous runs smuggling items all around Tamriel even making trips up to Skyrim during the Stormcloak Rebellion. It was here he ran into Lord Winterblade again. The old Nord was surprised to see how well the young Cathay-Raht had grown into his "jaguar man" body. It was also here he had his first real battle with the Thalmor and their Imperial lap-dogs. A stray dog they had taken on board out of pity was a spy for the High Elves and set up an ambush. Winterblade and his squad fought alongside the Khajiit and beat down the ambush leaving no Mer alive. They suffered only a couple of casualties but Magazo was gravely injured and Dar reluctantly left his protégé in the hands of the Stormcloaks to heal.
A few weeks passed before Mag was back to full health and stuck on land, he couldn't very well join the Stormcloak rebellion so he found his Aunt Ahkari's Trade Caravan and joined as a guard. From the age of 23 to 27 he wandered around Skyrim with his Aunt and felt all he had learned with his mother come rushing back and soon he was helping sell items as well as protect them. It was a few days before his 28th birthday when he saw Captain Winterblade's notice in The Bannered Mare. He wasn't able to meet the first send off date with his Aunt getting sick and him not wishing to leave her side.

The 13th came and went and he did his best to follow rumors of the ship but they just seemed to vanish shortly after leaving Solitude. His Aunt made a full recovery and knew her dear Nephew missed the adventure of a lifetime because of his kind heart. As soon as she could convince him she sent Mag to Farrun where the ship was due to make port next. With just his armor, weapons, and his lucky amulet which had saved his life during that ambush, he made a beeline for High Rock. He arrived two days before the Storm Breaker made port and now seeks to join up and see if he remembered his lessons as a sailor.

Rourke Winterblade

Name: Rourke Winterblade
Age: 27
Race: Nord
Gender: Male
Birthsign: Warrior
Class: Highlander specializes in mountain terrain and combat

Major Skills: Blunt, Blade, Hand to Hand, Athletics, Acrobatics, Armorer, Block, and Restoration.
Minor Skills: Mercantile, Sneak, Marksman, Security, Alchemy.

Appearance: [hide=Rourke]

[/hide]

Personality: Rourke is an honorable hero but a silent one as well, He only talks when  it's needed and his eyes are always watching and scanning for a threat.

Bio:  He was born in a remote part of Skyrim to Faust the Commander of the Skyrim Army and his mother Brunhilde who died in childbirth. Faust was away with the Army most of the time so all the young man had were his Grandparents. Throughout his childhood Rourke was put to bed with tales of his ancestor and namesake Rourke Winterblade the Divine Avenger. The last Champion of Cyrodiil and possibly one of the greatest heroes in  amriel's history his name alone used to be a household word, but now the only remnant of the man is an old worn statue in Bruma and of course  in this household. Even the Knights of the Nine and the Blades seemed to have forgotten the great warrior. Needless to say young Rourke had a lot to live up to, so like his father he joined the Army  in hopes of bringing honor to the name but on a mission in the Gnoll Mountains to kill the Wulvish his Troop was all killed in a botched  recon mission. Normally he'd morn then move on but it was his fault he  messed up the coordinates and led them right to the center of the tribe.  He barely got out with his life his only saving grace was his healing  skills. He was soon discharged from service and left Skyrim for good  until he got a letter from his Grandma telling of his Grandfa's health.

Weapons: His ancestor's strange purple bladed longsword named Umbra.

Appearance: Rourke is your average sized Nord only he has more muscle thanks to his class and his hair is blonde and he keeps it short. He wears the Imperial Dragon Armor of his Ancestor and an enchanted Ebony shield.

Other: He's home only because of his Grandfa's health.

Captain Allester Winterblade

Name: Allester Winterblade
Race: Nord
Age: 55
Gender: male
P.o.B: Windhelm, Skyrim
Occupation: Lord, Adventurer, Captain.

Appearance (pic or description): 6'8, 210lbs, slightly tanned skin, he has earthy brown eyes with two long scars down his left cheek, medium length grayish-red hair with two braids in the front, he has a thick beard and is dressed in a white undershirt with a heavy brown jacket over it. He's also wearing thick leather pants and black boots, he's always wearing an amulet of Talos and his ring of matrimony.

Equipment(pic of description): He now has suit of silver lined Nordic armor. It still had the overall  black and dark brown but weaved throughout the material like the wind  blowing snow was pure and brightly shining silver. The boots are higher and were more like greaves, they also have a few small spikes on the kneecap. The gauntlets, like the boots go all the way up his arms to nearly his shoulder and it has three long spikes along the forearm, they're shaped like small scimitar blades. The last addition was the helmet, it had a removable face mask that actually looked like a bear's open mouth with teeth engraved in it.

He also carries a highly tempered and enchanted Nordic Greatsword with Fire and Lightning enchantments he's named Firestorm. An Enhanced Dwarven Crossbow with no bolts right now but he will buy some later. And during times when Firestorm would be unwieldy he carries an unenchanted Stalhirm long sword that he wields with his new Nordic Carved Shield. He also carries a fair number of Healing Potions.

Primary Skills: Two-handed and Smithing
Secondary Skills: Heavy Armor, One-handed, and Block

Personality: Lord Winterblade is an honorable, intelligent, and kind man at least when not in battle then he become as cold and brutal as the blizzards of Eastmarch.

Background: Born in the 4E 151 to the ancient and revered clan Winterblade, Allester made a name for himself early on as an adventurer and explorer. Oft-times running away from his parents home to dive into caves and and ruins looking for treasure and monsters to fight. And despite being armed with a simple iron sword given to him by father ,the young man showed much promise as a warrior he even came back victorious from his little excursions from time to time. Returning with what loot he could carry he was welcomed back as a hero..at least until he got back to Gray Stone Manor where his parents were waiting for him. They were proud of his success but also furious at his continued disobedience.

Despite their constant lecturing Allester's adventures continued until he was sixteen then he joined the Legion and adventured across Tamriel discovering his true love of Two-Handed Weapons most specifically the greatsword. He quickly became a renowned warrior and shrewd leader of soldiers making a name himself from province to province. He served  honorably and when the Great War rolled around he was one of the first  to sign-up to fight the Aldmeri Dominion. He was present in both of the main battles, but after the Emperor showed his true colors and signed the White-Gold Concordat giving the Thalmor exactly what they wanted the Legion became a bad taste in his mouth and he left as soon as the chance presented itself. He was twenty-four at this point and with no major desire to return home right away he felt the urge of the road again and  spent the next twenty years of his life wandering Tamriel getting work as a merc, a Fighter's Guildsman, Smith, Sailor, and hero when the times called for it. Even making a Pilgrimage to Bruma where the statue of his great, great, Grandfather was still standing albeit worn and chipped. He had greatly helped the Empire in the Oblivion crisis and his hometown had honored him with a statue. Roruke Winterblade, Hero of Bruma and Warrior for good. 10th of Frost Fall 3E 433. He amassed great wealth by the power of his sword arm and the quickness of his wit even buying a home and starting a family in the chilly embrace of Cyrodiil's northernmost city, he sent much of his wealth back home to his parents only needing so much to keep his wife Heidi and his daughters Ari and Sonja comfortable. Around the year 195 Allester got word his parents were deathly ill and were asking for him to return home as soon as he could. It had been many years since he'd even thought about Skyrim or his parents, but the long quelled feelings bubbled up from his stomach and into his heart. Finishing up his quest for the Fighter's Guild he rushed home to Bruma relating the news to his family before he made his way back to Windhelm to be at his parents' bedside.

He arrived just in time for the Feast of the Dead, the usually solemn day was exceptionally bitter to the man because his parents died in the final hour of the Feast. Leaving him the sole heir of an immense wealth and the Patriarch of one of Skyrim's most influential and powerful Clans. He had just sent his parents to Sovengarde and was settling into the life as a wealthy lord even bringing his family from Bruma to live with him when Jarl Ulfric began his Stormcloak Rebellion. While Lord Winterblade(as he was going by now) agreed with the Jarl's views on Talos banning and the Emperor being a spineless dog he didn't agree with how Non-Nords were being treated. Many non Nords had proven themselves extremely valuable allies in his past and he just couldn't bring himself to damn all of them for the arrogance of a faction of Altmer. He would join his old friend Brunwulf Free-Winter in defending the Dunmer and Argonians in Windhelm even opening his home to them if they needed his help. While the Jarl and his Stormcloaks disliked this about the old veterans no one could deny their skill and deeds of battle. So many of the youngers kept their mouths shut for fear of being trounced by the large men and Ulfric couldn't help but respect them. Six years dragged on and the Civil War ravaged the land, eventually though Ulfric drove the Empire back beyond the borders of Skyrim and spent a year repairing the damages and establishing toleration laws thanks to the urging of Lord Winterblade. It took that whole year before peace was restored and Allester could settle down and raise his young daughters to be proper Nord ladies.

Five years following the final days of the Stormcloak Rebellion, Ulfric was made High King and he began expanding and improving upon anything and everything he could. One of these projects involved creating an updated map of Tamriel. He knew of many skilled Sailors he could ask to undertake such a venture, but Lord Winterblade had proven himself the most adept and honorable men he knew and all other candidates fell away. Contacting the Lord he arranged to pay for the voyage and give his royal blessing upon the ship and crew. Allester agreed to Captain the voyage on the condition he could allow anyone to join his crew Nord or not. The High King agreed and Lord Winterblade sent out notices to every tavern he could think of and prepared for the journey heading to Solitude to await his new crew.

Master Hillard Redscar

Name: Hillard Redscar
Nickname: The Protector
Age: 20 (but is an ageless spirit) 
Gender: Male
Race: Human/Spirit
Appearance Description/Photograph:

Hillard

6'7 220lbs, the armor can change it form to that of normal clothes when he's not in battle. These normal clothes are a pair of brown leather pants, black boots, and a white shirt. Under the armor he is a very muscular and tanned man with bright red eyes, and white hair.

Orientation: Straight
Side: Council
Element: Body

Abilities

Body Mystic abilities

Super Strength: Hillard is extremely strong able to bend metal with his bare hands and punch through it as well.

Super Speed: He is one of the fastest Mystics, being second to Arteimos who is the freaking Mystic of Storms so that's a given.

Super Agility: Hillard has super cat like agility.

Super Durability: Hilllard can take damn near every level of physical damage and quite a few magical.

Body Magic: As the Body Mystic, Hillard has an array of Body related spells and enhancements.

• Hold: He can use Body Magic to paralyze someone.
  
• Enhance: He can enhance his own or an allies physical prowess and make them fight harder and longer.
  
• Hinder: On the flip side he can also weaken an enemy's physical prowess, but the duration of the curse depends on how strong the enemy is to begin with. If they are strong enough the curse won't work.
  
• Sense: He can sense the presence of another body, living, dead, or artificial. It has it's limits though, the ability only goes up to 50 feet away, and if there is enough obstructions in the way like a mountain or very thick walls, or magic barriers the ability is nullified.
  
• Read: If someone has a physical weakness or injury he knows it and can work with it either to injure or help them.
  
• Heal: He can use Body Magic to heal injuries but only those that are physical in nature(broken arm, internal bleeding etc). Injuries of the Mind or Spirit are outside his sphere of power.
  

The Aegis

Identical in size to a Spartan shield but can change it's shape if the wielder desires it to.[/hide]

The Aegis: A mysterious object of great power. It's origin is unknown but it has played significant roles in past conflicts. It protects against all kinds of attacks both normal and magic. It doesn't have much effect on its wielder aside from making them a touch wiser and strong because of it's size and weight. It also has the skill to turn those who look into the glowing eyes to stone.

Body Mystic Skills

Being an ageless suit of armor The Protector itself absorbs the skills and knowledge of its present user.

Hillard is the very first of The Protector's users so he brings a master's grasp of war and anatomy to the spirit's knowledge reservoirs.

He is the master of most weaponry and forms of Martial Arts.

He has a firm grip on tactics and leadership.

His knowledge of anatomy and the nature of the body in general is impeccable. This is helped by his mastery of many Martial Arts.

Weapon: He is highly skilled with any type of weapon, but his favorite is the sword in the pic.

Personality: Hillard is a highly honorable man and is the epitome of White Knight. There is no one in the Council more likely to go on a one man war on the Mahavalli's forces.  While it's at times commendable it is also what he caused him trouble in the past. It's rare he's sent out on his own to do something, it annoys him but he also sees the why of it.

Brief History:  Hillard is of a race of men that were born and bred to battle. They are the precursors to the Spartans, and many barbarian tribes known in the world like the Celts, Gauls, and the many Nordic Races. Hillard Redscar himself is the Prime or best warrior in his tribe.

It is because of this that he was given a position on the Council as the Mystic of a third piece of the Trifecta. His skill lies in Body Magic and the power of the Physical world. When this war began Hillard was the first to volunteer and was given The Protector's armor to bolster his already impressive skills.

Other: While a hot blooded and fully capable lover, Hillard's existence makes lasting relationships and starting a family difficult

[Wilderness Soul]

Happy Holidays to all!

Time for my December update I'm currently looking for two more stories again, though this close to the busiest season of all, not holding my breath so no one need to force themselves if they don't think they have the time. I have a couple of ruminations to toss up for possible ideas and I am going to starting doing what other members do and locking off some ideas and/or characters that are already going so I don't get too similar ideas mixed up, some won't be my listed ideas, but ideas I have hatched with other members.

Also might add a few new characters!


First off starting with the new chars joining my ranks.

Grizzwald Night

Name: Grizzwald Night

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description) 

Grizz

Average height but of stout build. Under his mask he is a young man with sun kissed skin, his eyes are two different colors one being Blue the other being Green, and his face is clean shaven so as to not mess the sealing of his mask during duststorms. He has red hair which is also kept very short, he is a heavily built man and like the picture his left arm has been replaced by a clockwork prosthetic.

The above is his usual garb when on mission, a long coat, heavy cloth pants, and leather boots. He also wears an armored leather vest, and a leather pauldron to cover the upper parts of his fake arm. Though on hot days in the desert he usually goes without the coat which reveals the gray long sleeved shirt he has on under the vest.

Job: Trucker, smuggler, and occasional armed escort.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Driver: Like anyone who wishes to live through the Zombie apocalypse, Grizzwald is a very skilled driver of most any four-wheeled land vehicles.

Marksmen: A skill anyone in the wastes needs to know. Be with black powder or modern guns Griz is highly skilled at rifle grip firearms.

Navigator: Another indispensable skill, Mr. Night is very good at using the stars and landmarks to find his way around.

Doctor: The original field he trained for before the world ended. Grizzwald is a skilled albeit down and dirty Doctor.

Jury-Rigger: When the truck breaks someone needs to fix it as such Griz has taken it upon himself to learn all he can about engines and other technical fields, though lack of tools and two working hands means most of his fixes are more band-aids than proper fixes.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons): M-16 with a dual day/night scope, a 44 magnum pistol, and a tire iron repurposed into a war axe.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): The armor in the above pic, it's a modified combat medic's suit from his time in the Army.

Equipment: Basic mechanical tools, fire making tools, the wrenches and such need to keep his arm in good repair, spare ammo and gun maintenance kit and of course never without his trusty sidekick Admiral Quackers.

Augs(Limit of 3): Clockwork Arm: As seen in the picture Grizzwald has a mechanical arm that gives him extra strength.

Personality: Grizzwald Night is what could be called an adrenaline junkie. He lives to cheat death, he is fearless, bold, and wily. But there are glints of a deeply moral soul beneath all the bravado, many would call him unhinged, others perfectly normal. Grizz would say he's somewhere in the middle. Like everyone else in the new Zombie world you don't make it to the end the day being perfectly sane. Just the right kind of crazy to willingly go out into almost certain death on a daily basis.

Likes: Women, whiskey, driving, Admiral Ducky Quackers, thunderstorms, and rainbows.

Dislikes: Marauders, the Zombies, being stationary, the sea, and parrots.

Background: Many survivors say they were born to the life of a wanderer. The sky was their first blanket and the earth their first bed. Even if only two years had passed since the world ended this was a common cliche tossed around. But for Grizzwald night it had always been true. Since he was a child he's been on the road. His parents were part of a Traveling Circus that drive between every major city in America. Putting on fantastic and unbelievable shows every day of the year. All and all it was the perfect storm for making a man like Grizzwald. Raised to fear nothing and always to dare greatness the Nights were a happy family.

But while his parents were happy with staying circus folk Grizzwald wanted more. More adventure, more danger, more everything. So when he was old enough he joined the United States Army, but he wasn't keen on killing so he became a Medic. At the time the US was going through much turmoil, riots and mud-slinging political campaigns. Eventual the US fell into a second Civil War, so Grizzwald's first taste of the pains of war were just outside his family's summer circus camp. Luckily though he scored high enough to be a Combat Medic. With his rifle and CLS bag he did his part to keep America from blowing itself up.

For fives years he served the Medic Corp proud, and luckily after those five years the war ended, but like all soldiers Grizz didn't come out of it unscathed he lost an arm and the constant fighting and patching up people to send them off to die wore heavily on his psyche, and by the time the war ended he was well on his way to a Section 8 mental health discharge. But the horrors of war never just end once the last round is fired. Leaders on both sides of the war had gone to Nazi levels of mad science to try and end the war as quickly as possible while at the same time trying to ensure their side wins. It resulted in the truest form of an end of the world scenario, no one knows which side did it first. But shortly before a tentative treaty had been signed the first Zombie outbreak occurred it quickly spread and many say this was the main reason for the end of the war. Both sides united against a common enemy, but it was for naught. The virus spread and wiped out most of the world within the first year. Those further North suffered less and would eventually inherit the world once the outbreak had run it's course losing most of it's hosts before it fully ended humanity.

But the zombies still outnumbered the humans so those strong enough took to the roads to keep ahead of the hordes. Big cities were abandoned and small town became fortresses, but this is a losing war of attrition. The smart are mobile, and the survivors don't take chances. Grizzwald liked to think he was a smart guy and live on the road was something he was already used to and once he found a beautiful Volvo big rig truck he never stayed in one place very long ever again. He called her Annabelle and she became his home, his fortress, his safe space. His mental health fully unhinged now he simply lives to fight another day until the day finally takes him down.

Other: Grizzwald has had a few lady friends in the past, but nothing's stuck yet.

Salazar

Name: Salazar
Age: 45
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Appearance:

Salazar

Under his mask Salazar is a man of character and feature. Completely bald and covered from head to toe with bizarre markings of unknown origin. His skin is fair and dotted with scars from his former life.

A 6'1 fighter's build with defined muscle and taut skin, the strange tattoos continue across his body in a random patterns and it is said if one stares at him long enough they'll be hypnotized...or get smacked with a frying pan for being a peeping tom. While his entire body is remarkable his eyes are quite mundane by comparison. A simple deep brown that darts from side-to-side as if expecting trouble at all times. On mission he dresses as above, a long many belted trenchcoat with metal studs poking up across his shoulders and arms. He wears black combat gloves with magic channeling material under the sturdy layer of leather. Like the rest of his outfit his utility belt is also black leather and the pouches are filled with mission sensitive gear. He wears black camo fatigues and classy pointed shoes with non-rubber soles.

Personality

Salazar's personality is the product of years of normal military training, Spec ops training, and most recently extreme torture methods by the Agency who needed the maddest and most effective tool to bring down Monsters and Gifted humans gone rogue.

The man is an unhinged mess and can actually be split into three different personalities which ironically coincide with each phase of his life. The Soldier, the Agent, and the Manic. Sometimes the changes are subtle; other times it's like throwing an M-80 into a room of sleeping Elephants.

The Soldier: Thankfully this is Sal's most frequent and amicable personality. He's your typical soldier, hard-working, reliable, lusty, and safe to be around. He laughs, he jokes, he plays grab ass. The type of guy you can get drunk with one day and rely on to watch your back in a hot LZ the next.

The Agent: This is one of the personalities Sal falls into when he's in danger or going on a dangerous mission. Gone is the jolly soldier boy only the grim faced Merc who's seen too much and done too many dark deeds to allow joy to enter his life remains. He's all business and is quick to crack down on anyone fucking off when lives are on the line. He pulls the trigger and never ask questions.

The Manic: An extremely dangerous state of mind for Salazar and anyone around him. This is the personality that has built up his killcount and earned him the most trouble. He loves to kill and laughs when he does so. When this mask is on it's better to just point him at an enemy and go the opposite direction. He kills and destroys until the bloodlust passes.

Abilities: Over twenty years of fighting for freedom and money, have given Salazar a potent repertoire of ways to kill others.

Expert Marksmen: Able to shoot the eye of a Harpy at two-hundred yards, Sal's skilled with pistols, shotguns and rifles. But only goes as high as Semi-auto he's never been a fan of automatic weapons.

Sword-fighter: Enjoying the elegance and reputation attached to swords. Salazar is a skilled blade fighter able to wield big swords or dual-wield smaller ones if it's pointy and stabby he can use it.

Combat Medic: When he just doesn't have the time to use his healing powers Sal is proficient as a Field Medic and often carries the groups Med supplies on him.

Survivor's mindset: When you have lived the life Sal has you develop the mindset of a true survivor. Unafraid of death, willing to do anything to see tomorrow, and able to face down the most vile of people and creatures and crack a number of witty one-liners.

Brawler: Though not a favored skill, Sal can take a beating and throw-down with a combination of Pankration and panic fists.

Tricky: Due to his training and unstable mind Salazar can be a very unpredictable man in a close fight and has been known to use the land to his advantage.


Standard Loadout: Salazar's loadout is very mission dependent and to an extent dependent on his mind at the time. But no matter what is going on he always has fire making tools, holy objects of power, and information on a magically resistant PDA to tap into.

The Soldier favors guns over melee and he carries two .45 caliber pistols and a bolt-action Remington rifle all able to take normal rounds or special silver rounds.

The Agent favors melee over ranged and he carries two katanas, a tactical tomahawk, and an extending metal staff.

The Manic has no weapon preference and has been known to use anything he can get his hands on to kill and destroy from broken pipes to a crane he once used to drop a shipping crate on the target.

Weaknesses: Unpredictable, split personalities, and he gets bloodthirsty when killing things.

Backstory

 

For most of his life Salazar was named Riley and lived a good life. His family was upper-middle class and he was a star in school. He joined the Army at seventeen with hopes of earning a few bucks and getting his degree in Graphic Design. He signed the papers with a smile and expected his life to be filled blazing glory. In short...it wasn't, the training was far more difficult than he expected and his unit was full of assholes.
As the reality of life in the military dawned on him he was just waiting for his contract to be up, his degree to be earned, and never look back. He got his bachelor's degree a month before his stint was to be up, but work for a Graphic Designer was impossible to come by so despite his parents and his better judgement saying no he re-upped for a further six years and was stuck for life. Each time his contract was coming up money troubles and lack of work would force him to pick up that pen and sign his soul away once again.

For twenty years Riley was a warrior, Fifteen in the normal rank and file and as his contract ended for the last time he had enough money to get out, but killing was all he knew so he joined a group Black Op Mercs at his first chance and ran with them for five years. Flying out on missions all over the globe and killing people he couldn't even pronounce the names of. He never asked the why of it, just did what he only knew to do, follow orders. It was his last mission with the Mercs that set him on the final chapter to be becoming Salazar. He was in the desert...again...hunting supposed terrorists again...going on very little intel...again. All and all this mission looked to be like any other, but the group wasn't in the usual terrorist dress, they were called the Order. Riley had heard about the shadowy before, but so far in his life he's never had to deal with them before.

Still he knew from experience a well placed bullet will kill anyone Gifted or no. But this group was organized like a paramilitary group. The ambushed his squad their pet Gifted blasting attacks down from the ridge line. His brothers and sisters in arms dropped like flies all around him, they all fought to the bitter end and Riley forgot how many Gifted abilities he dodged...or so he thought. As the last of his comrades died the Order soldier swooped down from the high ground to end him, but as the one solider threw a large metal spike into his chest the spike bent and bounced off his chest. As surprised as the rest of the group Riley managed to use the metal spike and his military training to kill three of his attackers before he was struck from behind.

He awoke deep in a basement somewhere. He was stripped of his shirt and tied to a chair that was bolted to the concrete floor. He was alone upon waking up, but that didn't last long soon six people in white coats walked in followed by at least eight more dressed in black clothes. No words were exchanged as the eight in black surrounded him taking combative stances around him. One of the people in lab coats snapped their fingers and the people in black began attacking him with their gifts. He felt the attacks, but didn't seem to take any damage. They carried on for hours each Gifted taking turns using every techniques and variation of their ability as possible. But nothing injured the captured man, he was a Gifted with a most unique power.

For years this was his everyday. Torment, abuse, and isolation, everyday they brought in more and more Gifted to test his powers. And while he wasn't damaged his body began to change taking on strange markings and scars that seemed equal parts tattoo as healed injury. But still nothing showed up, there were whispers he was an Omega whatever that meant. This seemed to really excite the people in the Lab Coats. They brought in people called Alphas to try, and a whole new world of pain was visited upon him. Only now he was tied to a wall at the end of a big firing range like a rifle range dummy. Luckily he blacked out after the first volley, like before this carried on for awhile until his salvation arrived in a raid by another group called the Agency.

He doesn't remember much after that, just that he wasn't a target anymore. It took him a long time to recover from the mental trauma, but he did and now he's the leader of a group called the Project Hunter. Activated when shit gets out of hand and tossed into the fan, the last time they were activated was when the three Omegas Psion, Storm Breaker, and Warlock were captured. A good chunk of the group was killed, but him, Taipan, Echolash, Flash, Maho Shojo remained and like the secret little weapons they are were deactivated and sent back into the real world until the time would come where they would be needed again.

Faction: The Agency

Gift: Omega

Resilience: A purely defensive and powerful ability. Salazar can take and lessen hits from gifts, he can withstand nearly fifteen hits from Betas, ten hits from Alphas, and three hits from an Omega. It has no time limit, but once the number of hits land the force causes Salazar to black out, which leaves him open to death unless someone takes his body somewhere else. And separate effects can still happen like his clothes can be set on fire if he takes a too many fireballs, Acid powers can melt him if he stays too long in it. etc.

Rikki the Sapper

Name: Rikki
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Height: 3'2
Race: Redkin
Area of expertise

Sapper: A skill often overlooked, but with a history of turning the tides of battle. It is a skill the Redkin specialize in, gifted with a naturally clever and curious nature these furry little geniuses are skilled in using multiple weapons, crafting and creating complex traps and fortifications in record time.

Appearance:

Rikki

Rikki is a sturdy member of his usually stout race weighing a solid 30lbs with nearly all of it being tight springy muscle. His fur is well kept and is often a point of ridicule because he spends so much time keeping it clean. His eyes are a steady blue and he is usually dressed as above even when not in combat.

Personality: Rikki is a no nonsense, snout to the ground, eccentric. He rarely wastes time and is often at odds with others when there is work to be done. To him the world is always one inch from Armageddon, he's not gonna sit around on his tail and lose ground to despair. He's obsessive-compulsive, but endearing about it and unflinching in his can-do attitude.

Background: The Redkin are a people of spirit and resolve not of nation. Nomadic, and often found in camps outside of major cities offering their skills and traps to would be adventurers and hunter. The devices are well made and can set up the extra clever little beastfolk for a long time of complacency. But while such Redkin to exist the bulk of the race cannot sit still for long. Rikki and his Bustle(as families of Redkin are called) were one of these antsy majority.

By Redkin standards his Bustle was small consisting only of three generations, but each relative worked like three members of the other Bustles. Rikki is the middle child of four and early on showed a propensity for Combat Engineering. He would build traps for his younger siblings and tease them when he caught them. They rarely saw him coming, but he was also one to think himself better than your average Redkin. And for someone only two feet tall an arrogant personality was especially insufferable. But Redkin are very family oriented and the thought of sending a cub away was quite taboo. So they endured his jeers and laughs until he was twelve years old that is the day when a young Redkin must be tested by the Elders and placed within the Trades.

While many knew it was a forgone conclusion Rikki would be a Sapper he still tested high in Smithing and Fletching. His parents were proud of him, and after some wheeling and dealing it was decided Rikki would go into Sapper school, but learn the other two trades. A Redkin with more than one Trade wasn't uncommon, but one who only learned about battle was. This worried his parents because the young Kin was already dangerous on his own. Still they sent him off expecting a true monster to emerge.

As fate would have it though learning these three Trades gave Rikki the much needed discipline and focus he needed. His body was broken and reforged and his sarcastic critical mind turned towards professionalism and wit. He was apprenticed for ten years under three separate masters simultaneously. It was exhausting, but it made him the Tradesmen he is today, sadly his skills were put to the most dangerous of test when the Ruin appeared. Nothing could stop it, no number of traps nor potency of poisons, nor tremendous of fire slowed the force down. And it resulted in the normally fearless Redkin to flee before it. They are among the smallest of Races and often overlooked when the panicking masses flood through the land. More Redkin were crushed in exoduses fleeing the afflicted areas than in the fight against the Ruin. This has resulted in the agile little Beastfolk to begin keeping their own company and refusing to sell their wares to warriors who wish to fight.

Rikki and a few other youths want to bring the cooperation back and fully recognize that this Ruin can only be defeated by the coming together of all nations and he'll die to make it happen.   


Other: Since he has mostly been working on his own since he graduated Rikki often carries a small backpack filled with trap making parts, blueprints, and Redkin sized smithing tools. But for his own use he carries a compact bow with some of his best made arrows and a human sized dirk repurposed into a Redkin utility blade. Though he is a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to his weapon ability. And for ease of travel Rikki has tamed a Coyote named Decker to act as his mount.

Ingo Ryker

Name: Ingo Ryker
Age: 34
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description)

Ingo is a Raider, the first and greatest son the Ryker tribe, death follows him across the waves catching all the fools who cross his path for glory and honor.

A proud 4'5 feet tall and weighing a hefty 115 pounds of stout Gnomish muscle. While he keeps his head shaved clean, he keeps his bright red beard proudly groomed and clean. For his people the beards are a symbol of maturity and prestige. From a lifetime outside and at sea his skin is heavily tanned and like leather to the touch. Lastly his eyes are the the burning gold of a late sunset at sea.

Usually dressed as above even when safely on the shores of his homeland.

Race: Gnome
Job: High Sea Raider

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4)

Tough: Very much like Dwarves, Gnomes are an exceedingly tough race.

Bold: Like all who live their lives as warriors of the high sea, Ingo is a fearless and fierce individual.

Balanced: You need good sea legs when you are a Raider, on the sea or off Ingo has impeccable balance.

Natural Navigation: Either born from life-long training or some kind of trait passed down from generations of doing so. Ingo has a keen sense of direction and topography that allows him to keep something of a map in his mind at all times.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5)

Axe Fighter: His first and favorite skill, Ingo is a highly skilled and agile axe fighter being it duel-wielding, solo fighting, or even throwing. He is the best in his tribe with them.

Sailor: A skill expected of every son in the Ryker Tribe no matter his station. They are a culture born from the sea as their creation myths go so being a sailor and seafarer is something Ingo learned quickly.

Knife Fighter: While still one of his better skills, being able to fight with his daggers or throw the knives at his belt with the best in this clan. They aren't his preferred weapons, but come in handy when he loses his axes.

Raider: A combination of his first three skills, Ingo is a highly skilled and successful raider excellent at agile fighting aboard ships as well as guerilla combat on land.

Fisherman: Even high sea raiders can't raid all the time. As such Ingo has taken a keen interest in fishing. His skill as a sailor and naturally solid body allow him to land even large fish like the Savage Marlin.

Weapons: As with any Raider upon the high seas Ingo carries many weapons as he needs. But usually he carries eight weapons.

Pair of War Axes: The weapons in the pic and his primary weapons. Made of stout Danish hardwood for the hafts and fine steel for the heads.

Double Daggers: Likewise in the picture he carries a pair of sharp double-edged daggers with wrapped leather handles.

Three throwing knives: Lastly he carries three throwing knives at his belt each are made of a solid piece of fine steel and razor sharp.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): Being a raider means light armor and speed. Normally his armor consists of leather arms and shoulder protection and thick leather boots as well as heavy layered cloth for his torso and legs.

Equipment: He carries just what he needs for a long raid. Spare clothes, weapons maintenance tools, fishing tools, extra water as well as fire making tools and rope.

Personality: Bold and proud, Ingo is what the Gnomes of the Ryker Tribe aspire to. Fearless in all forms of danger and always willing to fight. Ingo is as rowdy as he is skilled, bordering on rude much of the time. But among his people such a personality is normal and actually expected of such a storied warrior and the son of the clan's Chief. But as bold and stalwart as he is his life was built around seafaring and war so his skill and experiences are limited to what would help him gain honor and trophies.

So the more scholarly pursuits in life confuse and frustrate him to no ends, he can barely read and simply refuses to learn how to write. His people tell history through tales around the mead-hall not through dusty tomes to be kept in some moldy tower.

Likes: Women, mead, war, the sea, his ship, exploring and seeking glory.

Dislikes: Idleness, losing, weakness, scholars, the heat.

Background: Clan Ryker, the greatest clan of warriors among the Gnomes of the raging north seas. Ingo was the first born son of Chief Grissmoud, his heir, his student, his greatest creation. Born for greatness and trained to be just that...great. He lived in privilege, but he also lived in war. Constantly fighting and training to be molded into the very best, but the young Gnome loved it and he grew into exactly what he was expected to grow into...a warrior among warriors.

He found his love of duel-wielding early and his weapons of choice being a pair of war axes. Even as a child he was a whirlwind of pain and death. Keeping his masters on their toes and his father proud of him, Ingo's body and skills grew with each day. Broken bones, gushing cuts, battered knuckles. He's dealt it all and had it all, no matter a warrior's skill he who learns without losing isn't learning right. Innate skill goes a long way, but training goes even further. But Ingo never had to worry about losing much, he was the best of the best. Confidence is a deadly mix when matched with great skill and constant ego boosts from those around you. As was the case with any promising warrior he found himself surrounded by the best mead, most tender meat, and most...flexible companions. And with each achievement he gained even more, and still while being considered a sprat unable to grow a proper beard. Life was good and it would only be getting better.

And so it did...the aspiring raider finished every kind of training his village and father could teach him and was brought on to be a cabin boy in his first voyage across the rough seas around Sølvtåge. One of the youngest that's even been allowed to set foot aboard a raider vessel. One more feather in the ambitious young Gnome's cap, one more thing to brag about to the boys back in the mead hall. He was looking forward to spilling his first pint of blood and claim his share of a bounty. This was going to be his Rite of Passage, he was about become a man and be allowed to grow a beard. He may even be able to find a war prize to bring home to warm his bed until he could find a proper wife, then the War Prize will become his second wife. The very idea made his heart race with excitement. As he stepped aboard the ship his gripped his axes Stolthed and Strøm and gave a small prayer to the Gods for a swift and decisive victory. 

Ingo's first raid didn't result in a wench for his bed, but he learned to love the thrill of battle and earned more than his own weight in bounty that day. The Gnome's group won a commanding victory and lost only a couple of men. That was the first notch in his axe handles, but the first of many. He began growing a broad powerful beard and he even won the hand of the finest maiden in his village shortly after he came home. Her name was Kisga and through the years she would prove to be his most loyal friend and advisor even after the new raider brought home a couple of War Prizes. Each raid increased his honor and prestige and every notch on his axe handles proved what he and his father already knew...he was the best son of his people. Many years passed and soon Ingo became a captain of his own vessel, the Halefire braving many tremendous seas and wild storms, but always coming back with a ship heavily laden with goods and treasure to present to his aging father.

He would one day be expected to take over leadership of the Ryker Tribe which meant he would have to undergo more training to learn the finer parts of negotiation and leading without bloodshed, he did not look forward to those lesson nor the chain that would force him off his ship and keep him stuck on shore for the remainder of his days, but it would be the highest and most honorable thing he could achieve in his lifetime. Until then though he would continue to enjoy the rush of battle and the feel of warm mead sloshing around his belly as he tumbles about the sheets with Kisga or one of his Prizes Ana and Elsa.

Other: While married to Kisga with whom he has five children, Ingo also has a pair of mistresses he captured in a raid that act as concubines for when his wife isn't in the mood.

Next the list of ideas/chars getting locked off.

Characters in use

Prince Constantine Dobuell, Igor Iron-Bear, Mordred Shattergale, Wraith Draxer Ripinger, Dr. Abernathy Ramsey, Malcolm Sun, Kent Adams,  Zurk, and Grizzwald Night. These lusty lads are busy with various adventures and various ladies, check back with them later. ;)

Ideas in use

From Classic Fantasy romp: Just this idea is locked out the rest are open to playing

MC and YC were childhood friends and royals set to be wed? But continued tension between their parents kingdoms resulted in them being ripped apart and forced to grow up and run away before everything is burned down only to find each other years later under their fake names and pick up that vague childish bond they both knew and loved? Can totally happen.

From my third Requiem plot idea: Just this idea is locked out the other is open.

If we feel daring, could possibly be a pet play or maid/master story built up around one character being from a wealthy family and the other being a servant sworn to do their Master's/Mistress's bidding whether that means working as a server and spokesperson for the cafe or being the stress relief after a hard day of working.

From an idea hatched between myself and himawari:

A warlord is married to the princess of an opposing kingdom in a plea for peace, but neither are looking forward to it, but they cannot say no to it as it would result in the death of both their peoples.


And lastly some Ruminations:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EsaUIv9QPxg

Pick your own Preggers adventure!

This idea is based entirely on the type of Elf/ baby daddy chosen and more than likely a humor filled mad cap adventure. Could be a one shot could be something akin to two dumb fantasy kids have fun, forget protection and try to figure out what to do which could end in any number of directions. Most of the choices will be fine, but the Chaotic Evil Elf will need more work as ripping your baby daddy to bits because you're super horny will not be fun for anyone.

While set up with Elves in mind, the idea could easily apply to any number of compatible humanoid fantasy races all that is really needed is pregnancy, but could even be the lead up to that part.


Yandere vs Yandere

A weird thought that occurred to me a few weeks back. If you don't know a Yandere is a "dere" trope and a term used for a person who is initially loving and caring to someone they have a strong affection for until their romantic love, admiration, and devotion becomes feisty and mentally destructive in nature through either over-protectiveness, violence, brutality or all three combined.  Now according to the Dere types wiki there are actually a few different types of Yandere most of them quite dark, but this idea will be far more comedic than most of those types.

Basically what happens when two Yanderes get together? Both boys and girls can be Yanderes and putting aside the tendencies towards violence. I think this idea with some work can be quite the fun and humorous story, like the girl Yandere is just bad at being a Yandere and fails hilariously at fighting off the boy Yandere's other love interests.

Or the boy Yandere is the self-sacrificing type of Yandere and he goes to the biggest lengths to be useful to the girl Yandere, but they live in a safe and normal world where you won't generally get killed walking out your door and don't need protecting.

Or they can be Yanderes against the world and love each other normally, but are so damn good looking other people keep trying to get with them and they fight them off Mr. and Mrs. Smith style.

Nuance: Despite the usual Yandere antics of massive amounts of gore, violence, and mental instability, I am not looking for that level of darkness with this idea. My O/Os concerning gore, vore, violence and such are still in full effect and any players looking for that type of story would do best to click past this idea. I want the wacky antics of impotently violent people falling over themselves while trying to be super serious not a recreation of Elfen Lied or something.

[Wilderness Soul]

Alright, I think I am finally over what had been kicking my butt the last couple of week and am looking to get back into writing. Though before I got sick I had two stories in the works so unless something happens to both of them I think I can only manage one more story. So if anyone reads this I am no dead and am getting back to it. XD

[Wilderness Soul]

Howdy all time for my February bump. Got room for one or two new story ideas still so if anything strikes your fancy feel free to send me a PM!

Firstly a handful of new story ideas.

A new Repurposed and one I was actually quite proud of when I first thought of it a few years back. It combines two of my favorite properties The Lord of the Rings and the Dragon Age games. If you really look into them they share a lot of similarities which considering LOTR is pretty much the textbook for the Fantasy genre makes sense, but they also share a lot of story notes. Like multiple races fighting against what is basically an evil corrupted version of themselves that are following some ancient horror once thought destroyed. So the question of what would happen if they crossed paths inspired this story idea and I would really like to see it played out.

Repurposed +1

Age of the Dragon Lords: An elegantly mad idea I had a few years back. Combining the worlds of the Lord of the Rings and the Dragon Age games. Where we play Wardens or Defenders of Endor comprising of Humans, Elves, Dwarves, on both sides as well as Qunari joining the fight with the Wardens and Hobbits for the Defenders.

All will embark on an epic quest spanning thousands of miles and hundreds of battles. Shortly after the end of the Fifth Blight, but before the events of Dragon Age 2 the Wardens have rebuilt themselves into something akin to their former glory. Headquartered at Vigil's Keep in Amaranthine they have become a powerful force both politically and militarily. While toeing the line between remaining neutral and reminding the world they do not stop existing once a Blight has ended they have maintained a peace not known in their lands for many centuries, but for every blessing there is a curse. While Thedas has been free of Darkspawn for the better part of four years, a land far beyond all the maps of their world. A world called Endor has been facing a foe unknown to even their oldest records, called only the Wrong for how twisted and unnatural they appear.

Endor has been torn by countless wars in the past, but this new war came so suddenly and without respite that many of the Free Races were nearly wiped out in the first wave. But with grit and keen blades they fought back against extinction and have been holding out for those four years, but they have been fighting an uphill fight and soon they will run out of feet to storm that hill. In desperation, the few remaining Elves have taken to the sea in hopes of finding aid...any aid. What they find is a land of strangers...but strangers that look exactly like them. The wonders shock the sea-faring Elves, but they do not forget their mission. They ask after the creatures learning their true names to be Darkspawn and the warriors best suited to fight them...the ancient order of the Grey Wardens. Seeking these specialized warriors proves to be the easiest part of this arduous mission. There is a culture shock when the two sides meet, but once the talk of Endor experiencing a Blight complete with it's own Archdemon crosses the table their differences are forgotten. The Warden Commander commits his best warriors to the cause and within a day the voyage is underway and the Wardens whom have never known the full fury of the Darkspawn join the Defenders of Endor to stop their first and hopefully only Blight.

Now a couple of Ruminations both of these will be slightly vague, but that just means they're wide open for playing with and building

Ruminations +2

Explore: As much a story idea as it's very own genre of storytelling. And likely one of the main reasons I even got into writing or playing video games for the chance to explore places I never could in real life. This idea will be the most vague as it's simply a desire to do something involving exploring. Be it sci-fi, fantasy, western, or something even more slice of life urban exploring where we play two young adults bored and looking for something interesting to do on a Friday night.

If you have a similar idea or just want to build off the base idea of "Exploring" let's have some fun with it.

Smile for the Camera: An idea I had just today actually after watching a youtuber play a game called Captive Audience. I won't spoil anything but basically it's the movie The Truman Show mixed with The Running Man movie. It was a great story with quite the hard hitting ending that honestly you can see coming from a mile away, but still it was a heart breaker.

After I felt a small twinge of something in my cold dead heart though an idea struck me. The player character had a nice hefty sledgehammer right there that he could use to fight the guards and turn his sad existence into a damn fine action movie that is when this scene came into my head.

"Fuck all of you and this sick fucking TV show, but you forgot to consider one thing in this little plan of yours." Hammer Man picks up the sledge hammer with a murderous gleam in his single blood shot eye. "You just gave a quarryman a fucking sledgehammer. And I've moved mountains with less." With several powerful swings he destroys the central control room leaving a single security camera working. Walking up to it he yanks it off the wall smirking into it. "With this hammer I will tear down your mountain, and there's fuck all you can do to stop me." As the guards burst into the room Hammer Man smashes one's head like a melon before caving in the chest of the second on his way out the double doors.

Basically we would be playing this TV show either before the escape leading up to this scene or after this scene where our pair will need to escape the fortress like television studio and embark on a war against the sick bastards who thought up this show in the first place?

Now a short and soothing Requiem.

Requiem +1

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=re_4eCdyqnQ

Another simple idea but one built for a Slice of life idea rather than anything fantastical. While set in the future and the possibilities of cybernetics and robots are a thing they won't be quite as ubiquitous as they are in games like Cyberpunk 2077. Expensive and rife with controversy from human purists. So all and all not worth the bother, but the world itself will be a mix of the cyberpunk genre and some light Fallout post apocalyptic wastelands. The story itself isn't too built up, but it can be a great many things in the Slice of Life genre or we can simply use the world to build up an entirely new idea.

And to wrap up this post a couple of new characters.

Recasts +2

Harlowe MadSon

Name: Harlowe MadSon

Age: 31

Gender Male:

Occupation: Tracker and Sooner

Appearance:

Harlowe

Average height, boxer's build, tanned skin, short brown hair, strangely yellow eyes, and dresses as above most days.

Personality: Devil-may-care and charming. The bane of safety minded types and a killer with the ladies...assuming he doesn't annoy them so much that they try to kill him.

Skills: Tracker/ Forager, gunman, axefighter, wood carver, and wasteland survivor.

Bio: Born in the Southern parts of Ragged America's West Coast in a town without even a proper name...even by the standards of a country where towns are named after merry-go-rounds and batteries. He more fell into the business of tracking things for a living than actually looking to get into it. His father raised him after his mother died in childbirth with him. The man was rough, but not cruel, he did what he could in a town of three rusty corrugated iron houses that housed all twelve residents. "Do whatever you can to keep the walls standing" was a common phase tossed around the shacks growing up. Everything you do, you do to keep your home and family together even if that means actually holding the walls up with your bare hands until someone comes along to weld them back into place.

His dad was a tracker and he took young Harley along every time he went out into the wastes. It allowed him to teach the boy a skill and keep an eye on him so he wouldn't die or something. Harlowe picked up quickly on the skills as well as learning how to be deadly with a bow and arrow. He can use a gun if you give him one, but bullets are a commodity the poor little dirt boy couldn't afford most of the time. So the bow was his ranged weapon of choice, but for up close and personal encounters he modified some mountain climbing picks into honest to goodness war picks using them like some axe wielding wild man when the times call for it. The travels with his father took him all up and down the West Coast following paths set down by the trailblazing pair of Ezra Bastian and Jackal Lawless, though the boy and his father never braved the Lost Mountain Trail the pair were rumored to find they did learn the Trader's Tail in and out. Even after his father went to big round up in the sky Harlowe kept plying the trade he was taught. And along the way he met many people, some more memorable than others.

Yorick Quara

Name: Yorick Quara

Age: 35

Gender: Male

Occupation: Show participant, formally a quarryman

Appearance

Rick

A man either born from a pile of rocks or sculpted from them. Powerfully built from a lifetime of the kind of back breaking labor that would destroy most people. 5'8 weighing a stout 200lbs, his skin while fair is marred by many scars. Some accidental other were given to him by people who didn't know were the line was drawn.

Pale orange hair like a campfire in the early morning his single good eye a glowering amber. The one under his eye patch was lost in a quarry accident his first year on the job. While the above is the idiotic costume he's forced to where on his show he would much prefer a good pair of jeans some steel-toe boots, and a flannel shirt.

Personality: Rough and when pushed...very vengeful. He has always had a temper and slightly unhinged tendencies. But give him a job and you'll find no better worker. And for the past five years he'd played the game the Studio set to him, but his patience has reached it end. He and one of his fellow contestants need to get away.

Skills

Working Man: Powerful and durable, Yorick or Rick as he prefers to be called is extremely strong and built to take a beating born from working in the quarry since he was a teenager.

Mindset of the Mule: While some might call it a detriment even assume he's mentally challenged. But in reality this is just a near superhuman level of focus and determination. Once Rick sets his mind to something he'll finish it or die trying.

Machinist: While he much prefers working the pit outside. If he needs to he can be put into the companies factory to repair or work the many forms of heavy equipment.

Hammer Man: A nickname and a skill set. When in the Pits he's most always found with a hammer and chisel breaking slabs of stone off the walls or breaking the slabs down into more easily moved chunks. When needed he can also swing a hammer like a human wreaking ball devastating anyone or anything trying to get in his way.

Bio: Before The Show, he lived a content and simple life. No wife or kids, but he had many friends and a big family to keep him company. Rick was happiest in his routine, he would wake up, he would eat breakfast, get ready for work, go to work, come home, shower, eat, have a few beers, go to bed. The same thing everyday, and he was happy with that.

But in his world society was on the decline. People didn't work the most basic jobs and the trades were dying fast. Machines were replacing man in the hard jobs like working the quarries. And for awhile his company was holding strong, but fives years back it all went to shit and Rick was circling the drain. His company shut down and for the first time in his life he was unemployed with no prospects of getting back to the grindstone. His jealously defended routine was shattered he flopped about in the doldrums for as long as he could, but like so many of his co-workers he found his saving grace...on The Show. A national phenomenon born from the world's insatiable bloodlust for more real TV, if Rick had known what he was signing up for he would've joined the military or become a criminal instead. He's blocked out most of it, simply having to react and not think about it he did what he was told. But with the demands and requests becoming more insane he has had enough. And it seems he isn't the only one feeling it, with help from a fellow contestant and some mysterious help from the outside it's time to tear down the walls that have kept them trapped and bring the roof down upon the heads of those that caused all this suffering.

[Wilderness Soul]

Alright time for the March bump everyone!

I am currently open to one more story idea so anyone interested feel free to hit up my PM box with ideas or interest let's see what we can figure out! Have a couple of story ideas to throw in as well as a new badass solider character and three new female recasts so growing large all around!

Repurposed +1

The Time Blades: I am a journeyman of Time and a vanguard of balance.
Blessed by the Father of Time and Space, I will use my gifts to be a defender of the world from the chaos of imbalance.
I am a seeker of balance not only in my duty but also in myself.
My body will stay strong, but my mind and spirit will stay stronger.
This is my profession and my destiny.
I am a keeper of this oath and will always hold it in my heart.
I will never forget that I am only a watchman, keeping the world in balance and I must never let my personal beliefs impede my duty.
I am a respectful follower of the Chronos and their teachings.
Despite the evil I may witness I swear to never abuse this gift and change the current of time for my personal gain or alter it to fit my ideals.
I am a Time Blade and this is my binding oath.

The Binding Oath of every Time Blade.

Plot: The Time Blades, an ancient and secret group of Chronomancers or controllers of Time. They're followers of Idan the god of Time and Space, their job is to keep the balance of space and time perfectly level. They go back in time and stop some events but they also trigger others or change them in some acute way to keep this balance. One placed in such a place of power must be of indomitable and pure will to not abuse it but, as nature has shown us time and again absolute power corrupts absolutely or in this case misleads absolutely.
The Blades have to hunt down one of their own who hopes to alter the Time Stream so good triumphs ultimately in this world eliminating all bad but as ideal as this sounds it cannot be, good needs bad to survive.

And the Time Blades must keep the balance even if that means killing this idealist and preventing a world where war is a thing of fiction and peace reins eternal. This disaster takes place in the most important room of the base, the Time Sanctum. It houses the Time Stones, the mystical green glass stones that grant the Blades their ability to travel backwards and forwards in time. It's heavily guarded and controlled, but even these measures failed when one of the very guards that protect the stones forgot their oath and jumped into the portal to begin their one person war on evil.

Rumination +1

Anarchists Anonymous: Some people want to save the world...others wants to watch it burn...and others still want to be the ones standing there holding the matches and gasoline. Which one will you be? In a world absorbed by the battle between the new and old, technology and tradition. Many are lost in the ebb and flow of society, some try to help make things better, others just sit back and watch and some people still want to help, but want to do it with fire and fury, burn it all down and rebuild it.

Now in the past, such a thing was more a dream than a reality. But in the far future with enough know how and money you can very well be the harbinger of the end. Sadly even with the know how you need the money and as is the case will all of history, getting that kind of money is a chore and feat all on it's own. Still where there's a will there is a way, be it by being the best shooter on your block, mastering cyberspace, or just being the living embodiment of it's better to be lucky than good. There's a path to greatness for every walk of life and skill set. It's just a matter if you'll do it all alone or have help along the way.

A fun little idea I had today wanting to play something more concrete and focused in the cyberpunk genre of the 2077 video game. We'd would play two random fools out for fortune and glory. Be Solos, Netrunners, Rockers, Nomads, Streetkids, Corpos, or any combination of possibilities in the cyberpunk genre.

Recasts + 4

Ila Brightcloth

Name: Ila Brightcloth
Age: 325
Gender: Female

Appearance(pic and description):

Ila

Like all High Elves, Ila is a tall and graceful individual. 6'2 and a fit 145lbs of lithe martial artist muscle. The woman spends most of her day in training and as such her body is taut like a drum and her long time outside has turned her golden skin into a beautiful bronze making her almost look like a Wood Elf from a distance.

Though her medium length sandy blond hair usually gives her away should she not be wearing her hooded robes. Her golden green eyes are also a giveaway to her true heritage. But despite being the daughter of Queen Isalina Brightcloth she chooses to dress in the humble robes or travel garbs of the ancient temple of Khramira, the Goddess of Light and Magic and the Chief deity among the High Elves. A leftover from when the time of the Heartland Saga when High Elves and Wood Elves were the same race.

Race: High Elf
Job: Monk

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Mageblood: While not a classically trained mage. Ila is like all Elves and is blessed with extremely long life and enhanced durability as well as resistance to magic spells.

Keen Eyes High Elves have exceptionally good eyesight.

Energy Manipulation: The only magic skill she bothered to learn. The manipulation and control of energy used to heal or enhance her base abilities.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Light Fist: The name of the marital art taught in the Temple of Khramira. It teaches calm precise strikes over raw power. With emphasis on balance and agility.

Calm Mind: Another aspect of the Light Fist is the hours of meditation she dedicates to strengthen her mind and allow her an otherworldly ability to calm her mind and focus on whatever her task at hand is.

Endurance: Something most High Elves don't work on, but for Ila she put her people's dedication to arcane learning to pushing her body's limits beyond what they were the day before.

Staff Fighter: While it's against her Order's creed to kill things, there is nothing against protecting yourself and sometimes you need more range than your own two fists. For this Ila carries a long wooden staff made of springy wood that works as a walking stick as well as a weapon.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Yew Wood Staff: The only weapon she carries is her staff.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): None

Equipment: Fire making tools, water skins, warm clothes, the Tenants of Khramira. Dried food, rope, water proof cloak.

Personality: Ila is the picture of the content Elvin Monk. Always smiling or singing a song. Ila is about as far from the usual hard eyed High Elf as one could get. Most of her people are cruel and spiteful, but not Ila she's more human in her personality. Makes her quite the pleasant Elf to be around.

Likes: Training, the Temple of Khramira, being outside, the sun, bird song, hot hint tea.

Dislikes: Killing thing, hurting things, alcohol, the royal courts of the lands of Eisignol.

Background: Ila is the fifth daughter of the High Elf Queen Isalina Brightcloth and her third husband Halsifad. Ila is the youngest, but also the one least likely to find a throne in her future. As such it led to her life being free from the cut throat world of Elvin politics.

She was also very close with her father. He was a former monk of the same order she would later join. In most Elf culture this is how life works and for the most part Ila was fine with it. She did the same schooling as her sisters, but while they were learning magic and etiquette Ila was being taught how to meditate and fist fight by Halsifad. It was a nice life, in fact one of the best a young Elf could have by most reckoning.

Though as she aged she found herself without a path in life. Her sisters were Heirs, back-up heirs, mage leaders, and ambassadors. And what would she be? Best case, the wife of some wizard outside of Avelar to try and gain some favor with an angsty faction. But her father had other plans, a member of Khramira's temple never really stops being a member. And it was only at the Queen's insistence that he even left them to be wed. But he'd been training Ila for taking his place among the ancient order, and when she got old enough she undertook the training and become one of Khramira's Champions. Loving the life and discipline it taught her and it's a life she has been living for the better part of two centuries.

Other: While her order doesn't demand celibacy, Ila has refrained from engaging in sex so as to focus more on her fighting and meditation. But she could be swayed if the partner proves worthy enough.

Dannsair-Claidheimh

Name: Dannsair-Claidheimh
Age: 22
Gender: Female

Appearance(pic and description):

Dani

Tall and lithe of build, Dani is a woman of the world. Born on the road and trained from youth to be a Blade Maiden. Though she is young she has maintained a body both fit and feminine. She sports few scars as anyone who does what she does will no matter their skill level.

When on the road looking for work she is dressed as above, enough armor to keep her alive, but not enough to impede her greatest assets...speed and agility. The sensuality of her outfit also an easy way to distract her targets.

When not working, she wears a short tartan skirt of red and black along with short black boots. Her hair while now white was once the color of the setting sun in winter. And her eyes sparkle with violet magic.

Race: Human
Job: Sword Dancer

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Psychic Link: The skill that makes a Sword Dancer, while it starts in the blood it must be nourished. This ability allows her to control her blades without the use of her hands, able to sling them at foes or use them to deflect blows as well as deliver them. But this skill is taxing so she only uses it when necessary.

Enhanced Agility: While not quite superhuman levels, Dani has agility at the very peak of human capabilities.

Phantom Blades: Alongside her two physical weapons she can summon two more "phantom blades" to give her a total of four weapons, but she can only maintain the two extra swords for a few minutes before she exhausts herself.

Limited Blade Sentience: As her blades are imbued with primitive spirits of nature each has it's own level of limited sentience able to act on it's own to attack or defend. But only with three feet of Dannsair herself.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Mentally Sound: An odd skill, but one crucial to being a Sword Dancer. She must maintain the clearest focus and calmness while practicing her abilities particularly the Psychic Link and Phantom Blades otherwise the spirits in her swords could act out and hurt her or her allies.

Physical Fitness: Her class is as physically taxing as it is mental. As such she must maintain a very high level of physical fitness focusing on endurance and speed above all else.

Sword Expert: While not old enough to truly be a Master at her craft, Dannsair is still very skilled at sword fighting. While preferring one-handed blades she can manage just as well at two handed ones.

Duel-Wielding: Among the first skills a Sword Dancer learns, Dani can use two blades at a time quite skillfully.

Dancer: Right there in her class title, she is a skilled dancer. Able to dance with the grace of a ballerina or the sensuality of an exotic dancer.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Dancer's Blades: Two identical swords like the one in her image. They are light and sharp perfect for her quick precise striking fighting style.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): Just the outfit in her image, offers some protection while not hindering her speed and agility.

Equipment: Water skins, fire making tools, weapon maintenance tools, spare clothes, utility knife, rope, a warm cloak.

Personality: Young and eager, Dani is a girl of purpose and spirit. A perfectionist in every aspect of her life. But she is still just human so errors and mistakes get made, and while each one hits her harder than it should she never gives up on perfecting what ever she is setting her mind to.


Likes: Men, the sun and summer, dancing, her swords, learning, and fighting.

Dislikes: Making mistakes, losing, dull blades, drinking, smoking, the rain.

Background: Dannsair is the only daughter of a Sword Dancer and a traveling black smith. As is the nature of being a Sword Dancer they go through a great many swords until they reach the skill required to attain their first Physic Link. Each woman has a unique mind and a unique soul and they require a similarly unique type of sword. Too weak and the blade will shatter upon the first attempt at connecting, and too strong and the link will be unable to latch onto the metal. So a good an patient blacksmith is truly a blessing unto a Sword Dancer.

For her mother, the saber was her Link. For Dani it was the talwar, it hit harder but also required more focus. As such it took her til age sixteen to be able to bond to her first sword, even then she could never allow her focus to falter. She destroyed many blades by accidentally bashing them off rocks or getting them so stuck in trees they needed to be broken to get back. It caused a great many long nights for her poor father, but he loved her and always looked at the tasks as simply sharpening his own smithing skills.

And when she finally made her first solid connection it was time for her true partner blades to be made. It took her father a full year to make them and they would be the last things he made unfortunately. He didn't die, but an accident with the forge struck him fully blind unable to wield his hammer or work the fires safely. As such Dani's blades were started by her father and finished by her mother with her father's guidance. They weren't perfect, but they were made with love and care so to her they were perfect.

So at seventeen she began the hardest aspects of her training. Doing everything while connected to her swords using them as extensions of herself. And now at twenty-two, she is ready for the final test. Going out into the world and slaying a great foe with her blades and bathing them in it's blood. Now what that great foe is will remain unknown until the time comes to fight it. Could be a Dragon, Kraken, some malevolent Giant or even a human tyrant looking to destroy the world. As such she must journey far and wide looking for this foe and doing what deeds she could do to build up wealth and renown.


Other: Dannsair is currently a virgin, but she is open to fixing that.

Dina Ferizah

Name: Dina Ferizah
Age: 26
Gender: Female

Appearance(pic and description):

Dina

Tall among Sunfighter women, Dina is a towering 6'5 and weighs a swift 150lbs of fine muscle. Her dark skin, dark hair, and naturally fiery red eyes distinguishes her among most humans, but she keeps a set of brown contacts in when outside the Day Sky River and on missions.

When on mission she dresses as above, modest yet practical. But when home she dresses in loose fitting robes and sandals.

Race: Sunfighter
Job: Agent

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Child of the Sun: All Sunfighters possess the powers of the sun. Enhance strength, speed, durability, and agility.

Flight: All of her people can fly at high speeds through the sky.

Fire Manipulation: Complete control over fire to use it offensively or defensively.

Gravity Control: More energy consuming power, but one with devastating effect. Can crush foes, sling them off into space, or simply hold something in place.

Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):

Sun Fist: The Martial Art taught to all Sunfighters. Focusing on powerful hits and using their various racial powers in the most effective ways possible.

Desert Survivor: Born and raised in the arid climate of the Day Sky River, Dina is highly skilled at not only surviving, but thriving in a desert.

Espionage: Being an Agent, Dina is trained in all levels of Spycraft. Disguises, assassination, intelligence gathering, and deception.

Melee Combat: Most skilled in using the Sunfighter saber while shooting off fireballs with her free hand. But is skilled in all similarly shaped one handed blades.

Ranged Combat: While her fire abilities are her first choice for ranged combat she has learned how to use crossbows with deadly efficiency.

Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons):

Sunfighter Saber: A well made, but largely unremarkable steel saber with a deeply curved blade.

Solar Flare: A specially made firearm that shoots fireballs at foes. Weaker than her actual fire shooting powers, but less of a strain on her Mana reserves.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): None

Equipment: Water skin, rope, spare clothes, spy gear, weapon maintenance kits, cloak, and Sunfighter sweets.

Personality: Dina is the type of woman who enjoys what she's doing even when it goes awry. Happy, easy-going, and when the need arises very dangerous and seductive.

Likes: Men, the sun, the sand, her job, her people, the beach, her homeland.

Dislikes: Fearstalkers, darkness, rocky terrain, rain forests.

Background: Born during a rare solar eclipse in the the realm of the Day Sky River. Dina has always been a child not afraid of the night. Always delving into places she ought not, learning things she thought she would never use, and experiencing things very few among the Sunfighters have. They shaped her into the femme fatale she is today and helped her chose her profession, as an agent she is one of the few Children of Helios to be allowed free access into the other realms.

Sent out as her people's first line of defense and intel gatherers on threats to her land and her people. She and her fellow Agents are the ones who decide if it's time to send in the Knights of Helios to wipe out the threat or just keep watching it. Though if she was being honest most of her job is wandering around trying to fit in with the normal humans and stay alive in face of all the troubles they seem to have in their world. It's a lonely life and she misses her home more often than not, as such when she does get to be home she hangs up her sword and rifle as soon as she gets into her house and never picks it back up until she's forced back out to do her job.

Other: Sometimes a job require some...intimate interactions. It's all business, but it sometimes feels quite good. Though she's yet to find a good man to settle down with.

Wallace

Name: Wallace
Age: 38
Gender: Male

Appearance(pic and description):

Wallace

https://i.imgur.com/G5lFCMZ.jpg[/img]

Wallace is a very large man being 6'8 and weighing a whopping 300lbs of heavy muscle this also being reflected in his wider than normal head and jaw. Like some other reptilian experiments, Wallace's upper body and arms are scaled and gives the appearance of being armored owing to his Armored Skin Ability, his legs are also covered in armored scales but they aren't quite as strong as the ones on his upper body.

His scales are mix of burnish gold and brown making him look somewhat metallic his eyes are a similar burned gold color. His hair and beard are longer than most soldiers, but still within military regs. The above image is what he looked like after a particularly long stint out patrolling the dimensions.

Race: Genetically modified human
Job: Dimensional Shield, Black Knight Rank.

Racial Skills and Abilities(limit of 4):

Tremendous Bite Force: While somewhat restricted by the shape of his mouth and head, Wallace's bite force is able to easily snap bones and rend weak metal with a bit of twisting.

Armored Skin: As much a physical advantage as a mental one. Wallace takes what comes his way and uses it to fuel his hate fire and desire to fight. His scales, while not as powerful without his Hardening ability backing them can still deflect most bladed or blunt weapons and absorb damage from punches and kicks well.

Powerful: In part due to his genetics, but Wallace also dedicates much of his time lifting weights and physical training. He is stronger than your average solider, but not to an unattainable level. It also helps him control his vengeful tendencies.

Big Lungs: Another gift from his crocodillin forefather, Wallace can hold his breath for up to an hour even when fighting some undersea monstrosity. This also lets him get away with succumbing to any kind of toxins in the air.


Normal Skills and Abilities(limit of 5):


Many lifetimes at war: Having spent what equates to many lifetimes fighting in wars across the omniverse. Wallace has a large plethora of skills at fighting. Marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat particularly Pankration and Breaker Training, melee fighting, the driving and piloting of vehicles of Land, Sea, Air, and Space. And while not his best he has skills with various kinds of technology and weapons across the many spans of history. It has also given him a love for working out and weight-lifting constantly on the hunt to improve his physical body and mental fortitude so he can face down every challenge and death defying stunt he needs to.

Tactical Brute: No one who spends so much time fighting can have survived so long without being tactical. While still the rush in and break stuff up type. Wallace has learned enough about tactics to fill many books, making him very adaptable so no matter the situation he was been dropped into he can figure his way out of it.

Hardening - Wallace can harden parts of his body to supplement his natural armor. The hardening is tough enough to protect from firearms and most physical attacks the multiverse can throw at him. The hardening doesn't affect mobility almost at all but does require focus to fire up and maintain. It was an ability taught to him during his first year with the Dimensional Shields. An honest to Lady Death Psionic being of pure energy from a race known only as the Sevenfall taught it to him.

Meat Lover's Chef: An unfortunate side effect of his genetic coding. Wallace can only eat meat and he must eat a lot of it. Anything else will make him sick and this extends to how he interacts with the world around him and the people in it. They are either food, an enemy, or a fuck toy. While he would never eat anyone he views the world in colors of Predator and Prey. As such he has learned exactly how many ways there is to cook meat of all types even those of aliens and other races he has encountered.

Polygot: A skill every Shield needs before they can even be sent on their first mission, you never know where you'll be sent or who you'll be sent with. So it pays to know as many languages and customs as possible, while Wallace isn't a genius he does know most of the languages that are spoken in the S system of the E sector of the I dimension (i.e. our world, solar system, and universe). For all others the Dimensional Shields carry Omni-speakers that can translate other unknown languages to one the wields knows.


Weapons(Limit of 4 weapons): While skilled in nearly any weapon you put in his hand, the Shields are expected to carry very little with them between dimensions.  Basically yourself and whatever clothes you can find to fit the world you are going into, but they are allowed one weapon that can fit into nearly anytime they may find themselves in and in Wallace's case his constant companion is  Catastrophe, a two-handed Steel bar mace. Simple in it's design and far from the wild and often oversized cartoon character weapons many other Shields carry. But in the hands of a powerhouse like Wallace it's all he ever really needs to carry.

Armor(one sensible suit of armor): While his own skin offers plenty of armor on it's own, many of the places he gets sent to use attacks and weapons he was not designed specifically to fight. So like his weapon load out he dons many kinds of armor, from fur and bone to futuristic space alloys and energy fields able to repel laser and plasma bolt fire. 

Equipment: Mission sensitive, but does carry a flask of hard whiskey and a tin of high quality cigars with him at all times.

Augs(Limit of 3): N/A

Personality: Wallace was a born killer, where others in the genetics lab needed lashings and beatings to get ready to fight. Wallace was created using the genes of one of nature's meanest and most aggressive predators, the Saltwater Crocodile. He was eager to fight fresh out of the jar, what he needed training in though was learning who to bite and who not to bite. He learned...like they all learned though this naturally tough skin did mean it took longer. Still once it was learned he never strayed, but a predator's mind never stops hunting and it holds grudges.

He took each and every beating to heart and will remember it when the time comes to teach some things of his own. But in his time fighting whatever monsters he was set against, he has learned to temper himself by simply bottling it all up feeding his Hate Fire until it burns bright enough to make him truly a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Still if someone were to dig deep enough down they would see the beaten and frightened child locked inside the man's body. Though first they would need to dig through the classic Alpha Male who takes advantage of any opportunity presented to him damn the consequences with an appetite for life and intimacy that is quite large.


Likes: Females, whiskey, cigars, fighting, being a Shield, traveling, the smell of cooking meat, and water.

Dislikes: Weakness, touchy-feely fools, being forced into lose-lose situations, idiotic governments, illogical people who live their lives like it's some kind of stupid anime and turn a blind eye to sense and reason simply because it makes them feel uncomfortable.

Background: Created in the hellscape that was the Ragnarok Genetic Experimentation Facility in Scarlands to the latest batch of genetic super soldiers. The Wilderbeasts as they are collectively called were created by the foolhardy government to fight in a war with some otherworldly monsters called the Sorrows that has been going on for nearly a century. This war has ravaged the Scar homeworld of the K Sector in D Dimension down to near global extinction levels. At least according to the Dimensional Shield's records, but Wallace never knew it's name nor it place in the multiverse until he joined the Shields. Wallace cares not for weakness nor does he care to think on his time in the K Sector. He wasn't even sure why the Shields cared so much to try and save the damn place.

It was a blur while it was happening and will remain as such until he decides to die. His batch were born for Aquatic Warfare and placed in the Scar City Navy, which he served faithfully in for sixteen years. And while the Sorrows did sometimes show up in the big waters and sewers. Him and his batch were more glorified pest controllers in the Saltie's opinion, spending more time rooting out rats on their way to the monster than fighting the damned thing itself. They were created from Alligators, Monitor Lizards, Sharks, Barracudas, and of course Crocodiles. Given underwater adaptation and the raw tenacity to dare the depths and whatever might meet them there.

While likely not in the blueprints for what went into making him he did find he was good at another type of job... First Strike and the Scout Battalion which he spent a full eighteen years of his life doing bringing him to the ripe old age of thirty-four which for Wilderbeasts like him was a venerable age. His batch helped them with a Sorrow attack once, and he soon found that wandering into almost certain death every day suited him just fine. As soon as he was able he put in to be placed in the S.B. and spend more time on dry land than in the water, his superiors seemed glad to be rid of him actually. His natural armor and the inherent ferocity of his forebear allowing him to stand a chance against these nightmarish freaks quite often. While not their primary jobs in the Scouts, and and his brothers were sent out more often than not on First Strike missions, where the Scouts had found a Sorrow's Nest ripe with eggs and weakened birthers resting up between laying sessions, their job was simple...destroy the entire next generation of Sorrows and Birthers to try and cull the Sorrows's numbers. Wallace thinks he's spent more time outside Scar City than in it, but he never much cared to count. He had grown quite close to his group and would've stayed in with them had they all not been wiped out in a botched Strike.

Intel had said it was just a small nest with one or two elder Birthers guarding it, but someone screwed the pine pony on that one. He and his comrades or the "Mariners" as they liked to call themselves were dropped right smack in the middle of the main nest of the Sorrows King and Queen, and they were terribly ill-equipped to fight them. Wallace and his brothers, Angus the Great-White Shark, William the Komodo Dragon, Robert the Tiger Shark, Shamus the Barracuda, Calhoun the Alligator, and Alistair the Nile Crocodile fought their way through the nest using every ounce of their skills and training to earn even an inch towards the exit. In the end it was only Wallace who walk out of those tunnels and just in time for the fluffy fool that was the general of the Scarland military to drop a nuke directly on top of it winning the war at long last. And all it took was planting a tracking device in a pack among the Mariners and following it, Wallace died right there already bleeding out paying little mind to the Sorrows that came stampeding out of the fiery death the military had condemned them to. He was ready to join his brothers at Fiddler's Green, but the unexpected happened. A hand seemed to reach out of a rip in the fabric of reality and pulled his battered and broken body through it leaving everything he had known behind him to burn in nuclear fire.

Ignosi, the gate keeper of dimensions had pulled him from his own reality and dropped him into the infirmary of an inn called the Star with two enigmatic beings watching over him. A male called Keppe O'Keefe who was the owner and operator of the Star and an ancient Space Dragon named Grand master Galez who was the head of a group known as the Dimensional Shields. Guardians and something like an inter-dimensional police forced tasked by the Gatekeeper to maintain the balance between the Multi-Verse. It was a lot for Wallace to take in so he promptly passed back out hoping it was all just a fever dream he was having before he got to the Green to see his brothers again. But upon his second waking it was all proven to be very real...he was dead and this was his reward for a lifetime of pain and suffering...an afterlife of pain and suffering. But at least he was for all intents and purposes immortal now, being removed from the fabric of time and space does come with it's perks. The Saltie took time to heal up, his wounds so great that it was up in the air if he would survive for a little bit, but immortality took to him and in what would amount to six months he on his feet and being taught all he would need to know about being Dimensional Shield. A further two years followed his many skills at war allowing him to fast track most of the basic training Squires got. His world was high end Type I Planetary Civilization and had it not been for the war with the Sorrows they would've easily reached the rank of Type II Stellar Civilization in Wallace's lifetime so he didn't even need a lot of training in the more technological disciplines and weapons training.

What he did struggle with was the personality and intellectual parts of his training. He was bred and created solely for war and fighting, his literacy were extremely weak as well as cultural and language skills. He had to cram over twelve years of education into his two year training period, he managed to do it. But he hopes to never have to read that much ever again. Once his training was done he was paired with a Mentor and began his life as Shield, being sent to worlds and dimensions that just boggled the mind to blend in and try to subtly steers things away from turning out like Scar and the K Sector. They weren't always successful, but Wallace can brag about a few Mass-Extinction Events he's averted. And now after four years he has earned the rank of Black Knight fighting back chaos on his own or with his own plucky Squire at his back.

Other: Though Wallace does have a particular taste for humanoid females from naturally "Prey-like" species. Horsesgirls, Rabbitsgirls, Cowgirls etc. He's a natural Dom when given the chance. This also extends to any females he deems "fluffy."

[Wilderness Soul]

Ooof been awhile since I've done one of these. Busy life thiss year with a lot more on the way, but some of my writing partners have gotten even more busy so I am open to one or to more stories.

First off a couple of new Requiem ideas

Requiem +2

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5a1P5dbrK7g&t=107s

Music plays through heady smoke of the Crossroad Alehouse, in the town of Hesgrove. You walk in from a long day of tilling the fields or patrolling the forests and roads around the little hamlet. This has been your tradition for years, wiling away in the hot sun for what few bits of coin you can scrounge up. All so you can having a few hours of rest and relaxation before crawling into your bed for the night to sleep until the tedious cycle of your life starts again.


But tonight you notice a stranger seated by themselves in the corner of the packed pub idly shuffling a pack of playing cards. Anything to break up the humdrum monotony of your every day life is a welcome change, but the strangest thing you notice though isn't the intricate sword at their back nor their captivating appearance. No the strangest thing is that no one else seems to acknowledge the attractive stranger's existence. You soon find yourself entranced and your feet move on their own accord towards the Stranger's table, the closer you get the more attractive the stranger becomes. Your mind is locked into place and it isn't until you stop at the Stranger's Table that you feel the strange pull abate. You study both the stranger and the equally strange deck of cards they are still shuffling, the cards seem to be glowing and pulse with some kind of magic. Without looking at you the stranger begins dealing to both themselves and the empty chair across from them, they then speak.

Their voice is soft yet powerful, it echoes around your mind like the ringing of a bell. "You and I will play a game now friend. If you win I will be at your command for a full year. Be it a companion or simply a blade at your side, you will gain fortune and glory beyond your wildest dreams and be able to live a life of luxury for the rest of your days, but we will never meet again." So far your muffled mind thinks this isn't a bad idea, but it feels like your head is wrapped in a blanket of wool dulling your other senses and logic. The Dealer then look up at you, their green eyes glowing with a power that makes your soul tremble. "But if I win you will be mine now and forever, you will want for nothing and experience the truest of loves, but we will never be apart and your life now will be erased." As the final card is dealt you feel the trance you have been in fully leave, you regain control of your limbs and your faculties. Something tells you if you chose you could leave right now and never have to worry about this green-eyed Stranger and their unnatural looking cards...but the question is....will you?


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxb7t3J7ZX8&t=1s

Where there is life, there is conflict. And where there are human know the worst and most devastating forms of conflict. But far in the future where gunpowder and armored vehicles once existed the blade and battle armor have returned. Conflict has returned to it's roots from many centuries passed, man vs man, blood on the sand, and where brutal honor clashes with harsh reality.

There are no nations, no Kings, and what gods do exists only bless those that have proven themselves worthy with their leniency and boons. To those who have earned a god's blessing, they are blessed with great abilities and/or legendary weapons of power. These blessings are best seen in the unnatural mutations given to each Champion by the deity themselves. Unfortunately the only way into a Deity's favor is a lifetime of blood and battle. You must walk hand in hand with death every waking minute of your life, never growing soft, never growing weak, never falling from your patron's favor.

Needless to say such a life is short and fraught with suffering. But there have been rumors of a singular warrior with a huge black spiked sword that has been fighting for decades and never once took a hit or lost a fight. No one has ever seen this warrior,  the swaths of dead bodies being the only proof the myths or more than just stories. But if there's one thing you've learned from living your whole life in the wilderlands is where there is death there must be someone to deal it, and someday they'll need to be brought down for it.

And while I have no new character ideas I do have a concept I've had some luck with in the past on another site. Everyone knows writing prompts and nearly all Request threads have story ideas and prompts to entice new partners to join them in some literary adventures. My idea is similar to that but instead of story prompts I throw up basic character seed prompts and a partner picks which one(s) we build the story around.

Each prompt will be simple and built to accommodation a lot of settings, magic/tech levels, even genres. All that is set is the class and description. Everything else including the weapons and images I use to give the general idea can be changed to suit the story.


Class: Guardian

Weapon/Fighting Style: Sword and Shield, the perfect balance between brutal slashes and stabs meant to end a fight quickly paired with a shield to keep their enemy guessing and wearing themselves out.

Description: Born and raised in the local barracks of their local town, but during a civil war the town was razed and they had to flee into the night as a child and live by their own rules to survive. Roaming from town to town keeping their name and loyalties a secret in case those that burned their home down comes looking for survivors. But their early life learning to fight for the word of law and greater good are a deeply grained itch that cannot be scratched by simply keeping their head down.


Class: Jester

Weapon/Fighting Style: Daggers, throwing weapons, and misdirection keeping their foe on their toes and guess as they use the very world around them to get a few cheap laughs and win by running away preferably.

Description: The illegitimate child of the Queen and her passionate lover from a traveling minstrel show. Kept close under their mother's watchful gaze, but never told of their true lineage. Always a good natured and smiling child, they were adopted by the former court jester and raised with a sense of irreverence and knowing that with a smile and joke they can get away with insulting the King himself. But one joke strikes too close to home for the Queen her face contorted in a split second of horror, one about a queen bedding a fool after a night of too much wine thinking he was her husband and the ever watchful vultures of the court see her reaction and after some digging and bribing find out the truth. Now the poor Jester finds themselves in a game they have no quick way to win and get away from.



Class: Dragoon

Weapon/Fighting Style: Glaive, Close to mid range engagement using the lifetime of training and sheer weight and length of their chosen weapon to keep enemies at bay and be a deciding factor in any fight they find themselves in.

Description: The bottom rung in the massive ladder that is the imperial army. A cog in the machine, cannon fodder for the bigger and more important warriors to step over on their way to glory and victory. But in their heart burns a will to survive by any means, just because they were born into nothing and forced into the faceless masses of the army, doesn't mean they need to die as nothing.



Class: Arcane Warrior

Weapon/Fighting Style: Magic Staff and mace. Trained in the arts of Destruction, Restoration, and bashing heads in. Generally long range engagement, but no one survives very long without a Plan B.

Description: A dedicated student of the Arcane Arts, but born with a strong arm that tends to get bored without something to do. Born to the unusual pairing of a Battlemage and a Sorceress, they have been the bridge between the worlds of Martial Prowess and Arcane Mastery. Though often comrades in battle the two worlds rarely cross and when they do it is never pretty. Luckily their only fighting has been in the training ring and their spellcraft either from books or experiments controlled by the Professors of their university. But as they reach graduation rumors of adventure and glory await in a recently discovered island unknown to those on the mainland. A true test of talent and skill, but will they be able to combine their unwieldy skillsets and live long enough to reap any benefits?


I have more in the wings waiting to be posted, but for now lets see how these four go. We can pick anyone to use or combine the ideas or build completely different ideas in a similar formula feel free to PM me for details!

[Wilderness Soul]

Happy Summertime to all!

So missed my July bump due to it being a really damn hot summer so far and my being like a Husky dog in Florida, just melting and not meant for warmer weather. =.=

As such my brain hasn't been churning out ideas as much as I would like it to and I still cant bring myself to simply putting a "bump" post in this thread to get back on the first page. So I have waited for the sun to stop cooking my brain and hoping for new ideas to come and a few of them have.

Nothing too fancy this time a just couple of ruminations I would like to see and my changing the status of some of my characters from not in use to in use and vice versa.

Rumination +2

The Good Samaritan: A plot inspired by the Tracy Chapman song: Fast Car, but not as directly inspired as my standard Requiem plots so I can't call it a full Requiem and just a Rumination.

Scenario: On a long deserted highway at 3 AM not even the stars and moon wish to be out. But Fate never sleep and she is always looking to create intrigue and test the boundaries of people. And tonight there's not one, but two people she wises the test. A man with more blood on his hands than in his body and a woman simply escaping what life has dealt her. It started out as a stranger helping another stranger by offering a ride to the nearest motel, but soon turned into so...much...more.

Be it by happenstance or lack of funds the car they are in breaks down stranding them both at this run down little skin mark of a motel. Sketchy lamp posts and an even sketchier night manager. His greasy smile and arm marred with tracks tells the pair all they needed to know, one room with a single bed was all they had to look forward to, but sleep never comes easy for those who live in the dark. They know what shit lies in the dark alleys and shadowy buildings of the city they are fleeing, but once the night has ahold of you it never lets you go.

And it's not long before the past comes for them, the flimsy walls of the motel nothing to theses specters from the darkness of existence. But with wits and fists sharpened and tempered by their hard fought lives they escape together seeking shelter back where neither of them wanted to find it...the city. They say two heads are better than one right, but when both heads are more used to looking out for themselves and using others as stepping stones can these two lost souls continue to be a good Samaritans to the very person that has dragged them back to the life they wanted to be done with?

Nuance: A good start for a good story right? And like all my stories it can easily be adapted to nearly any time and world, but I personally like the vague modern woes and worries this base idea puts forth.


The Wandering Family of Warriors: A historical fiction inspired by the Three Kingdoms games specially the Dynasty warrior Empires games. A knowledge of the games or actual history isn't required, but couldn't hurt either.

Scenario: In the far past a great war between the great empires of the ancient world was brewing and already threatening to rip the world as they all knew it apart. And while the conflict never left the borders of their homeland, words and rumors know no such boundaries. Sent by Traders and Minstrels alike every kingdom was looking to conscript or hire more warriors to their side hoping to gain that one small edge in the next battle. And many warriors from all over have come to answer the call, many cultures, styles, and reasons have brought men and women to these verdant valleys and lush mountain forests. Three such warriors have come to the Three Kingdoms with a reputation already proceeding them. They are the Three Beasts, a golden lion, a blue wolf, and a white tiger, while their names aren't commonly known their armor and weapons are. They unmistakable in the sheer size they wield over the opponents and the way they fight, many have come to try and lure them to their side with promises of money, land, titles...and temptations of the flesh. And for now the Tiger, oldest and most powerful of the three have kept the other two honest and dedicated to the art of war, but they are not longer a cub and time has a way of catching up to us all...even a Beast of War.

Nuance: While inspired by the Three Kingdoms, from the prompt you can tell it doesn't have to take place in that world. And like before the options for characters is huge. The idea was born from my playing a warrior dressed in white tiger armor and carrying a massive sword, but even he could be someone else if my partner wishes. But the full idea is Tiger (called Tyr in my game) is a veteran of many wars traveling with his two kids a daughter and a son after his wife/their mother was killed. Born into fighting and battle both kids are very accomplished warriors in their own rite, but with their father the tree are nearly unbeatable each one making up for what the other two lack and protecting them from all sides. But soon Tyr met a beautiful warrior woman and wed her, the three then became four and the four became an empire in their own right. But like all great nations it is from within they begin to falter, that was as far as I wrote the story so the ending should this path be chosen is totally open.

Or we can do something else entirely, hit me up and we'll plot some!

[Wilderness Soul]

Howdy all time for the September bump!

Still looking for two stories to fill in some that have fallen off the edge a bit.

Just a couple of new story ideas one of which will be going in my craving tab will also be adding a couple of Repurposed story ideas and some updates to my character lists some are going back into circulation and others are now in use.

Will also be switching some of my stories ideas namely taking two of my Raving story ideas Glory to Scotland and The Rush towards Salvation ideas. I will be downgrading them to other tabs. Would still be open to doing them, but now they are lower on the list is all.

First the character updates.

Now in use

Mordred Shattergale, Do'Magazo, and Rourke Winterblade.


Coming back into circulation

Zurk, Iolaire-Sealgair, Wraith Draxer Ripinger, Yokun da Nukoy, Wolf, Dane Coal, Igor Iron-Bear, and Captain Jagger Steele.


Now for the stories will start with the Raving.

It's no secret one of the main reasons I joined E was to try and find a good Cyberpunk story. And while my first idea was terribly vague I would still love to do it. But here is a slightly more refined Cyberpunk idea inspired pretty much directly from the fantastic series on Netflix that just dropped recently called Cyberpunk: Edgerunners highly recommend it if you have the streaming service.

Up from the gutter: A classic tale of fighting up from obscurity with the help of a friend/mentor/lover only to learn the fight to the top if full of pitfalls, betrayals, side missions, and accident just waiting to happen


Scenario: Everyone starts at the bottom of the ladder in this city. Most don't get more than a rung or two higher their whole life before something or someone kills them. But for the rare few with the fire, instinct, and quick trigger finger riches and glory await you. Now you can hit the ground running scraping up whatever shitty little scav hunt or step and fetch missions a fixer will throw your way and grind up the road to becoming a legend...or using some tact and possibly a few messy favors you can join a crew and find yourself a mentor. Working up that ladder is a helluva lot easier when you got four other people grabbing the rungs to pull you up with them.

Just remember the one less in Night City people always seem to forget. Trust no one because everyone's on the game and you never know who'll be happy to shoot you in the back and take your spot on the ladder.

Nuance: Like I said pretty classic tale, I can play either the mentor or the new kid will just need to make a new sheet for the kid spot. And am looking for a partner to play opposite that be it the mentor themselves or the scrappy underdog looking to the big bad Wolf(my cyberpunk guy) to teach them a thing or two. Now it doesn't need to be a female lead opposite my male, but if you want a nice heavy romance with some wild sexy times a female will be needed. But could easily be two guys going against the world Jackie and V style. All life paths, skillset, and builds will be welcome to this one.


My next idea is a rumination that I think could be fun. Based in the general Elder Scrolls universe, but could be changed to fit a bunch of different worlds and genres.


The Last Atmoran: Your usual fish out of water story man out of time finding everything he thought he knew changed, ruined, or simply gone from all memory. How will he adapt to this new strange world? Will he fall back into his tried and true ways of war and conquest or can a soft spoken companion bring him gently into the modern world and help him make peace with a past he never thought would impact the future?


Scenario: Long ago the ancestors of Men in Tamriel came from a lost and harsh land called Atmora. Far to the north and home gods and beliefs long forgotten, all we know of these ancient warriors is what we read about in the history books and that far back many of them are unreliable at best or downright deceptive and lying at worst. These is no one left alive to prove or disprove either way, but that has never stopped the thirst for knowledge and truth before so why now?

The world has begun to grow warmer and places once frozen and ignored have begun to thaw and bloom. Countless ruins and artifacts are seeing sunlight for the first time in eons. One such site is a massive burial mound that once sat under an impassible mountain, no records of it have ever existed. Not even the stonework itself look familiar, this is because it is from a time before the architecture was perfected. It is the oldest tomb of man ever found, it even seems to predate the cities of the Dwemer. It is also totally encased in Stalhrim, that rare and nigh impossible to mine material reserved for the mightiest of Atmoran heroes. Needless to say the academic world is all a twitter at this opportunity to study such an intriguing site. But once they finally get the means to start mining they find something that no one was prepared for. A fully preserved Atmoran warrior at the heart of the tomb, a veritable giant fully decked out in heavy Stalhrim armor  and a truly mastercraft set of arms lining his coffin. The value of the weapons and armor themselves could buy the Imperial City, but this was a King among the Atmorans, the most ancient and direct connection to Ysgramor himself many would say. There was but one issue with that claim, this man was nameless, clanless, he may have well never existed. Not even the list of the Five Hundred Companions spoke of a warrior over 7 feet tall with hair and beard as white as snow whose armor seemed to have a red tint to it, as such he simply became the Northman. A name that would go in all the studies and reports about him, for months the site was continuously excavated but it also continued to grow warmer. The color had returned to the Northman's visage and the scholars worried he would begin to rot, but before anyone could think of a spell strong enough to refreeze him the Northman's eyes sprung open and he leapt from his tomb swinging his massive Stalhirm sword wildly about him the air igniting with enchanted fire and blistering cold as he continued to fight a battle he wasn't aware was long since done.

It took a full squad of the Companions to bring the man done. They had been hired as guards both for their skills in battle but their reverence and connection to the culture the warrior had come from. Despite being a haggard and malnourished man he put up quite the fight shouting in the ancient Nordic tongue as he was wrestled to the ground and knocked out by a war hammer to his skull. The weapon broke on impact with his heavy helm but it did the trick to put the raging giant back to sleep. What to do with him next is a mystery, but he is without a doubt the find of the Age.

Nuance: Ok big idea for a comparatively small premise. YC can either be one of the Companions who took the Northman(MC) down or one of the Scholars who discovered him. The plot will be a slow burner as YC tries to teach MC about the world and help him find his place in it. Lots of adventures and tense moments will await us both and I hope we can find a good groove with it because there is nothing I love more than an epic adventure with slow burning romance and oceans of character development and interaction we can explore.


And finally to wrap up this bump a couple of old story ideas I've been hankering to bring back!

Destiny's Deck

A very old idea of mine based around the idea of Tarot Cards, while not exactly Tarot at the same time. And while it was originally written to be a group RP it could be a very fun and very long running RP as our characters go about collecting the other cards.

Plot:Everyone loves a carnival, the food, the rides, the games of chance, and of course the novel experience of letting an old woman "predict" your future of love and money. But she doesn't use the usual Tarot cards or the usual methods. She simply stares hard into your eyes as if she's stripping away the skin and muscle and burning a hole into your very soul. After a few minutes of a stark naked feeling she reaches into her deck and pulls out a unique looking card. As she places it in your hand you feel the strangest sensation of familiarity to the card and the picture on it's face.

Brushing the feeling off you put the card away and continue on your way enjoying the festivities. As the night continues on the feeling of familiarity grows stronger and you feel like the warm night air is smothering you and sapping your energy, just as you seem to reach the limit of your tolerance for the feeling, a huge explosion rumbles the fair grounds and a living hell begins swallowing up the rides and vendors. Chaos and panic ensues and you run for your life all else becomes a blur as you take refuge in the old fortune teller's trailer that seemed unphased by the voracious carnage. As you enter it you notice it's far bigger than it looked and you aren't the only one here. Despite all your differences you feel like these people are family. Now if things couldn't get any more confusing the old woman appears before you just as weathered and crooked as you remember, but in a flash she changes into a tall queenly woman with an otherworldly beauty. Before you can voice your disbelief she speaks and you freeze, rooted to the floor of the Trailer.
"I am Destiny and you have been chosen to save your world from the Warlord. The cards you have are your key to great power, master them and keep them close always. The Warlord will have agents with similar powers after you. Kill them and take their card, master these new cards and become the stuff of legend. Now hold on tight, we're going for a little ride." She snaps her fingers and the trailer vanishes from the destroyed Fair Grounds beginning your journey towards saving the world.


Extras: We will be playing the good guys or maybe Dark Agent if the idea strikes your fancy. Despite the gender of the character on your card you can be whatever gender you want. But we start out as normal humans, as the RP progresses we will fight Dark Agents and be able to take their cards utilizing the power within them. Each new card will have it's own set of Passive and Active Abilities, but we can only use the active powers of one card at a time, the passive abilities will be going at all times but lessen with the more cards we have.

Most of the fighting will be between the players and non-card carrying monsters. The card carrying Dark Agents will be like boss battles.

Cards: We will be given a strange card by a strange woman in a strange trailer. The cards hold a power neither of us has ever known. These Cards are Magic and give us a very handy set of powers, we must master the card and capture them from the Dark Agents. There will be 27  choices so lots of options. I am open to hearing new card ideas for this and when the proper time comes we can work them out and make them real.

The powers can be turned off by touching the back center of our cards or if we get damaged enough it'll happen automatically. When we transform we don't have to use the image on the card for our transformed looks, but it must look similar to the card. I have fully written specs for each card, but will just post the names here to be picked and asked about then show the full specs once a choice is picked.

Vampire, Beastlord, Golem, Salamander, Leviathan, Roc, Sun, Moon, Warrior, Mage, Rogue, Reaper, Shaman, Automaton, Storm, Judge, Joker, Time Keeper, Alchemist, Loremaster, Artisan, Guard, Acrobat, Recluse, Seeker, Bard, Sprite.



Nuance: I have around 10 Dark Agent cards to pick from, but they'll be our baddies unless you wish to ask about them then we'll have a nice unlikely lovers uniting to bring down a bigger bad story on our hands which can be loads of fun itself. But we start with one card each and build around them could add more powers, take away powers, change appearances of the cards etc so hit me up in PM and lets see what we can come up with!

Full Moon Circus

I have always loved circus and full moons, so this seemed like a great way to combine them some years back, lets see who likes this idea!

Story: Wonders and mystery await those that find themselves under the big top of the Luna's Dance Circus. The swift Acrobats, the dazzling   Fire Dancers each act is built to amaze and astound the paying audience.  Each day they bring in a full house and no one leaves unhappy, but if you ask anyone that leaves that tent they'll tell you everything isn't  as it seems.

Once a month when the moon is bright and highest in the sky the run of  the mill circus becomes something truly unbelievable....it becomes the Full Moon Circus. Sights and sounds known only in movies and books jump  out of the land of shadows and dreams and into our world. Blessed with  supernatural powers the acts bend the laws of the reality as we know  them. Strongmen breaking steel girders over their knees, Beast Tamers  becoming the beasts they tame, Jugglers tossing around real balls of  fire and light. This one night the performers know no bounds anything  can be done and more times than not it is done.

But as always there are critics, religious nuts saying the circus is evil and unnatural, zealots ranting about imagined injuries gained by a   wayward wild animal attacking them. Even with these psychos beating down  the doors of the Circus no violence has ever gotten through, but a new group of people known as Enders are slowly pushing past this barrier and encroaching on the Circus Folks' safety even when the full  moon isn't  out, the Ringmasters aren't worried but they also aren't happy. They can't act until violence is actually done so they must  wait, hope, and  pray. Join us and find out how the big top survives.

Extras: In this RP we will play circus performers that while supernatural beings all years round get to drop their disguises and run free for one night a month, the full moon. A Beast Tamer can shapeshift into animals or is a Werebeast, Strongperson can bend steel and so on. The amount of acts and performers will depend on the  interest and powers while they must be related to our act are up to us for the most part.

Acts: A basic list, but can always think of more depending on the time frame and magic/tech levels.

Ringmaster, Strongman/woman, Beast Trainer, Juggler, Physical Performer(ie sword swallowing, knife thrower), Acrobat/Gymnast, Clown, Daredevil, Dancer, Magician, Musician.


Nuance: This idea can have any number of pairings and interactions, all characters would be some kind of supernatual being, but will also be always hiding to avoid people who might wish them harm harming them so could play with that tension and anxiety too pushing our chars to each other for comfort.

[Wilderness Soul]

November is here and here is my November bump!

After a very busy October my life is both slowing down and getting more hectic this month. But a couple of stories have dropped off so I am  open to another story having picked up one more before posting this bump.

Won't be much in way for new ideas, but got a rumination I would like to see and a new requiem! As well as a couple of shifts in characters being in use and available.

Now in use

Captain Jagger Steele

Coming back into circulation

Mordred Shattergale


Now the Rumination!

What crawls through the alley? Urban fantasy, Neo Noir, the favorite tale of justice and fairness against all odds. Sticking to the classic 1940 hard boiled detective romp to something more fantastical or even sci-fi. The pairings can be any number of combinations, good guy vs bad girl, monster hunter vs monster, cybernetic bounty hunter vs down and dirty bounty. Or many others.


Scenario: A lone beacon of justice in a city that has long forgotten it's meaning. Be it a vigilante cop dolling out his own version judge, jury, and executioner or a single nameless fool wanting to change things for the better. Life has never been easy in this city and anyone that tells you otherwise is an ignorant fool or openly trying to lead you down a long road to a quick death. But you've been around the block enough to be able to smell those intentions a mile off. But even the keenest bloodhound gets a stuffy nose from time to time.

Nuance: While the premises is pretty vague and open, what I love the most about this kind of story is the depths of character and wild roller coasters that come with dealing in the world of grays and shadows. This will be a long term story idea with all kinds of slow burn romance and possibly a very unhappy ending if the angel of tragedy descends upon us.

Now for the requiem!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXYIxJScSik

FFDP is by far one of my favorite modern bands and hands down my favorite metal band and anyone of their songs could easily inspire me enough to make a story from. But this one in particular gives me the vibes for some genres I love. Post apocalyptic, western, gunslinging, rough and tumble life of living by your wits and guns alone. Maybe we're part of a raider tribe taking care of rivals for the suits in the last big city left after everything went to hell? Or a couple of suits looking to get a foothold in the world before the worlds puts it's foot on our backs. Or the good old fashioned Romeo and Juliet of the wasteland, open to any kind of pairing that would fit into the world that video portrays.

[Wilderness Soul]

A couple of months late, but here is my January bump!

Sadly no new story ideas or characters, but overhauled and stream lined the whole thread somewhat, hopefully it'll catch some bites as I am looking for two new stories and would love to tackle of slice of life or cyberpunk stuff.

And two characters are coming back into circulation.

Captain Jagger Steele and Booker Drake

[Wilderness Soul]

Hey everyone another late RT bump but here it is!

So I am open to two more stories, and am wide open to playing something slightly fantastical slice of life or a long burn fantasy adventure story.

A few more characters are being flipped around


Coming back into circulation

Prince Constantine Dobuell

Wolf

Mortimer Grimm


Out of circulation

Adam Dova

Anders 'Geppetto' Mars

Sir Maximus Starcore

Shax Law



I have some more Requiems for people to choose from.

Tribal, powerful, ominous

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SsqKoSMd-tg

This song takes me to an ancient time where man and the mystical walked hand in hand. Where blood was shed on may battlefields against a common foe, and while the day was won, the foe was never truly defeated. But in the following centuries the wounds of total warfare have passed. Humans live in peace alongside Non-Humans and their rulers are just allowing intermarrying, hybrid children, true peace and equality. The only hints of conflict come in the ancient tunes song by the Skalds and Scholars, but two young people in a small mountain hamlet are about to learn that the songs they mock are really lessons on history. And those who forget history are destined to repeat it.

A personal thank you to one of my writing partners Lilias for finding this awesome song and thinking of my RT!

Quiet wonderlust

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18v0li8yQKo&t=2065s

What do you do when you can't sleep at night? Drink some warm milk? Take sleep-aid? Work out until your pass out? All viable option, but what do you do if your first idea doesn't work? That's a bit harder to answer, but for some the back up plan is to slip on some comfy shoes, a warm coat and go for a walk.

We allows the calmness of the night to sap away our anxiety and helps us to sleep. Even if we have no where to go, just the act of walking can sometimes be enough to tell our brain it's time to sleep. But sometimes...just sometimes...we wander until the place we need to go finds us without us even knowing it. Be it in the middle of a noisy city or in the heart of an ancient forest the universe will always bless the wanderer with a prize for all their walking. Maybe a rare bit of treasure, or the discovery of true love, or maybe a war you never wanted any part of, but find yourself taking up arms in the defense of something beyond yourself.

Contentedness and comfy love

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3UR6Cdjvfw8&t=124s

Reaching the ultimate goal of happiness, to have someone there for you at the end of the day. Just doing their thing while you do yours, but always just being a call away from joining you. Living with someone so comfy in their own skin and in your presence they don't even bother to put on proper clothes and just parade around in their bra and panties for you.

Love is the greatest gift known to humanity. Be it the love of a parent to their child or the feelings shared between those parents before the child was even born that spark of emotion at love at first sight. But there is another kind of love, one worn into it's perfect equilibrium over time spent with their lover. A few years down the road of being a couple but before they take the next big step, just living day to day by each other's side being there whenever the other calls.

Sadly even true happiness comes with troubles, but what those troubles are can be anything and they can happen anywhere. The only questions is...can they recover and find that spark again?

Sensuality, fast living, slow burning

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iltDPthGLdY&t=26s

A story of chance encounters between two people who would never cross paths or even look at each other in the street, a single night of passion turning into a lifetime of regret?  An accidental touch of the hand turning into a turbulent path of commitment, infidelity and eventually going their separate ways?

Like the old song says

A singer in a smoky room
The smell of wine and cheap perfume
For a smile, they can share the night
It goes on and on and on and on

She was just another lower middle class girl looking to earn a few extra bucks to pay for her college, he was a young man burdened by a terrible life full of lying, stealing, and pain looking to drown out the screams in his head with some alcohol and the warmth of a woman's flesh even if he had to pay for it first.

But that night turns into something neither of them wanted at the time or were even ready for. Maybe a child, maybe a ghost from one of their pasts comes back with a bloody knife and a heart full of vengeance? Either way they are trapped between a rock and a hard place, can they get through them both and go back to who they were or would their lives be changed forever from a single bad judgement call?

Resigned solitude

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LIL8iqJyL-s&t=8s

Many would kill to live in their own mansion and have their entire life and whim catered to. Tis the dream of every dirt shoveling little kid working their fingers to the born on their parents farm or selling flowers in the town market. They look upon massive house atop the hill above their tiny village with eyes full of envy.  They only see paradise and something they'll never know.

Sadly the grass isn't always greener on the other side. Yes the family on the hill lives in luxury and splendor, but their parents are grim and professional individuals. To them having children is an investment on the future of their estate and fortune, they can whip and mold the kids into perfect little copies of them and continue the vicious cycle of earning more money than they know what to do with, but never doing anything greater with it. They horde it away like a family of clutching, grasping, covetous dragons.

Despite their efforts though their children are not so easily whipped into line, born just as stubborn and focused as their folks they do whatever they can to break free of their gilded cage. And one day the very incarnations of chaos stumble their the gates of their town, a large troupe of traveling performers have come to town. Their loud music and bright wild outfits bringing some much needed color to the drab and gloomy town. They send the carefully laid structure of the town into madness, but the parents upon the hill cannot simply throw the Troupe out, no they are protected by the King's decree. As long as they destroy nothing and hurt no one they are free to wander through as may borders as they wish. They are the truest form of freedom known and it's a lifestyle found quite attractive to the children especially the youngest.

And it didn't hurt there was a young person around their age among the entertainers, attractive and charming, the exact type of person their parents would never approve of. And the exact type of person to free them from their life of greed and misery.

[Wilderness Soul]

Bump

I usually have more than just bump to say, but tonight all I have to add is it's been a long winter and I am looking for one more 1x1 to try and I need bodies for my group RP called TBDS-Sins of the King.

Hope to see some new faces around both here and the group RP.