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Suzerain of Sheol · Posted 01-31-2014, 02:18 AM

ALAS, CAMELOT!

A dystopic, post-Arthurian story of war and treachery, incorporating various elements of European myth and history into a glorious, chaotic cauldron of epicness!

TIMELINE AND BACKSTORY

SOVEREIGN POWERS, NOTABLE NPCS, AND THEIR FORCES

MAGIC

Magic in this setting works by forging contracts with powerful spirits from the outer world. This spirits include Angels, Faery, Demons, and “Gods”, though Gods in this context are merely groups of powerful spirits allied to a common cause and offering pacts only to those who worship them.

To play a character capable of wielding magic, you must define both the specific entity (or entities, but having multiple obligations to spirits can become very dangerous) that you've contracted yourself to, what specific powers you've been promised, and what the terms of the agreement are. You will always have access to these particular powers as long as you don't violate the contract, and you may call on your bound spirit to renegotiate for further abilities, however, the terms of subsequent agreements will likely be much stricter.

Angels and Gods are the safest spirits to parley with, however, they are also the hardest to enter into an agreement with, and they will only offer their blessing to a character who is willing to live by the moral code they exemplify. Their granted powers tend to range from healing, the aiding of others, helping to win justified battles (in various way), smiting the wicked, etc.

Faery are more dangerous to bargain with, trying to twist deals so that they are best served, but when pressed will agree to mutually beneficial contracts. They delight in offering additional power at a high price to their partners. Their granted powers tend to be more subtle, manipulating probability, bewitching the mind, creating illusions, etc, though they can grant power over elemental forces as well.

Demons offer tremendous powers, but will not agree to anything but the most sinister contracts. There is no way to strike a beneficial bargain with these Hellish spirits, and they will always claim their price from the warlock. However, so long as their interests are served, the magics they impart are stronger than those of any other spirit, particularly adept at killing things in various ways and sowing havoc throughout the land. They will only too easily tempt their partners with even greater powers for still more horrible promises. Treat with them at your utmost peril.

CHARACTER SHEET

RP RULES

PLAYER CHARACTERS

Finally, if anyone has ideas for other elements to add to the setting, I'm all ears. And of course, any questions about the setting or for character creation are completely welcome. :)

Suzerain of Sheol · Posted 01-31-2014, 05:34 AM

Okay, rules for character capabilities.

We have 5 primary areas of focus: Skill-at-Arms, Wisdom, Magic, Vitality, and Wealth.

You get 16 points, to increase them each from 1 to 5. You have to put at least 1 into each. You'll have opportunities to raise them higher as we play, but bear in mind that anything over 5 (5 to 10) is a bigger increase than 1 to 5. The tiers are as follows:

Skill-at-Arms

1- Inept as a fighter. The character has never been in a serious fight in their life.
2- Untrained, but either naturally fierce or the product of a violent life.
3- A soldier. Possesses basic training and knows how to handle themselves in a fight.
4- A veteran. Has fought in wars and come back to tell the tale.
5- A fully-trained knight. Schooled in the art of war since birth, a finely-tuned killing machine.

Wisdom

1- Illiterate. Provincial. Barely knows who their monarch is.
2- Functional in society. Still possibly illiterate.
3- Basic education, but no particular areas of focus.
4- A scholar. Broad base of knowledge, specialized in one or two fields.
5- A Renaissance Man. To those of lesser intellect, they seem to know everything. They possibly do.

Magic (this covers both magic ability for those who make pacts, and resistance to magic. If it's particularly high for a non-mage, an RP explanation is probably required.)

1- Inept at magic, effects never work properly or don't work at all. No resistance.
2- Able to produce magic as described by the bargain, but nothing very impressive. Starting a campfire, perhaps, but no burning men alive. Slight resistance to magic, of little consequence.
3- Good enough at magic to be known for it. Burning men alive is possible here, but only with effort. No outstanding effects. Decent resistance to magic.
4- A true talent. Can use their granted powers in creative and powerful ways. Able to shrug off spells from lesser casters.
5- A trained wizard. Able to use even the smallest of sorceries to great effect. Only fellow wizards can threaten them with magic.

Vitality

1- Frail. Sickly. Probably should not be adventuring.
2- Out of shape. Susceptible to illness.
3- Average, reasonably healthy. Battle wounds are not necessarily life-threatening.
4- Robust. Rarely gets sick. Recovers quickly from wounds.
5- Mighty. Almost immune to common maladies. Can take tremendous wounds and keep fighting.

Wealth

1- Impoverished. Either homeless or indentured.
2- Able to feed oneself, but little else.
3- Can support a family. Can afford equipment and the occasional luxury.
4- Wealthy. Can afford to purchase finely-crafted equipment or employ servants and bodyguards regularly.
5- Rich. A landowner or noble, can afford almost any single purchase. Likely owns a manse or even a castle. Likely employs many servants and retainers, and even a personal army.

Suzerain of Sheol · Posted 02-01-2014, 03:26 AM

Dame Amélie Sans-Dieu de la Roche-Blanche

Ethnicity: French
Allegiance: The Holy-Emperor Charlemagne
Profession: Knight
Age: 34
Height: 5'9”
Weight: 183 lbs
Appearance: Powerfully muscled, her body has been conditioned by over a decade of life on the road and at war. A blow from a sword-hilt broke her nose in her youth and it shows; she has a deep scar running from the right corner of her mouth to her jawline. Hair is brown and close-cropped, eyes dusty brown and small. Her posture betrays her lacking sense of self-worth. She wears a jack-of-plates covered in lacquered leather painted deep crimson, along with a full mail harness and hosen. She carries a heavy round-shield of Norman design, an arming sword, and a short lance that doubles as a spear in close quarters.

Skill-at-Arms: 5 (A decorated knight, she has fought in several battles across the countryside of France, participated in (and ranked highly) in many tourneys. She is, frankly, very good at killing people, which does little to ease her doubts about her soul's fate)
Wisdom: 3 (Taught to read and write as per her tutelage in the convent, schooled in the manners of court though she rarely attends when she can help it. Has studied the Scriptures in some detail.)
Magic: 1 (Despite her sincerest prayers, she cannot make contact with an angel willing to bless her, she does not understand and is supremely jealous of others who can work magic.)
Vitality: 4 (Well-fed through her youth, trained in the rigors of knighthood, well-used to traveling, she is exceptionally hardy and has thus far managed to avoid any serious injuries in battle.)
Wealth: 3 (She owns nothing but her equipment and horse, but she does not scruple to outfit herself with the best armor and weapons she can afford. She rarely goes hungry, and often gives to the poor after her other expenses are taken care of)
Other Notable Attributes: Was taught sewing, gardening, and singing in the convent, though she isn't particularly good at any of them. Working knowledge of equipment maintenance, horse-care, and the treatment of battlefield injuries. She is fluent in French, Latin, and Arabic.

Possessions: Destrier and barding, Jack-of-plates armor, Chainmail harness and cuisses, Arming Sword, Short Lance, Rondel dagger, Aventail helm with vizard, leather mantle, leather boots, plate gauntlets and greaves
Relationships: Phillipe (older brother, deceased), Alain (younger brother, monk), Lady Marguerite de la Roche-Blanche (mother, deceased), Lord Robere de la Roche-Blanche (father, vassal of Charlemagne), Sir Diodore de Saint-Pierre (her commander in the Knights-Errant), Dame Bradamante (her mentor at court and the knight she looks up to the most)
Social Rank: Noble, Knighted, Landless
Honor: An adherent to Christian ascetic principles when she can manage them, but her vows often prove too difficult for her to maintain. Likewise she is devoted to the code of Chivalry, and strives to act honorably in all things, but her temper often gets the better of her and she resorts to violence more easily than she is comfortable with.

Biography: She was born to the Lord and Lady de la Roche-Blanche, a prized vassal-house of the Emperor. She was extremely close with her brother Phillipe as a child, and yearned to follow his path into knighthood, but her father forbade it. At the age of 12, she convinced herself that she heard the calling of God and chose to join the Sisters of the Blessed Mary rather than accept a marriage to one of her father's allies.

Word of her mother's death giving birth to her younger brother Alain reached her in the convent. The boy survived, though she did not meet him for many years later. Every now and then, Phillipe would visit her, and she longed to leave to live with him in court, but he would not allow it out of honor for their father. When Phillipe was slain on campaign against the Saracens, Amélie was devastated. At the age of 15 she left the convent and went to see her father, declaring her intent to join the Poor Knights of Charlemagne's court. So broken by the loss of his son and wife, the aging man allowed her to go, and they have spoken only rarely since.

Amélie's time as a knight-apprentice was difficult, she felt herself clumsy and unskilled to the other more-experienced squires, but out of sheer diligence and lack of anything else to do with her life, she persevered and trained tirelessly for well on 6 years until she was finally granted leave to accompany her master to war. Proving herself in battle – she had become quite skilled by this point – she was shortly thereafter knighted and placed under the command of Sir Diodore de Saint-Pierre, charged to go forth as a Knight-Errant and right what wrongs she could throughout the empire.

So began her life as a knight, and though it brought her peace and fulfillment to bring aid to the weak, it was a lonesome existence, passing through towns and cities, rarely finding friends in those she lent her strength. Later came wars in the east, fighting the same heathens who had murdered her brother, and she won great glory there. Yet one by one her comrades-in-arms died around her until the Crusade was finally given up as lost and she returned with the French armies in defeat.

Afterward, she took up a more permanent residence in the Emperor's Court at Avignon, though she ever refused grants of land and titles of her own, preferring the life of soldiering. Here she met the Lady Bradamante, a Paladin of legendary deeds. They became fast friends and swore oaths of alliance. She remains Amélie's only true companion, though Bradamante is often carried away on great quests with the other Paladins. Amélie yearns to one day be esteemed enough to accompany her.

Through all her travels, Amélie has struggled with her faith in God and the church. The life of violence she has chosen conflicts with the gentle teachings of Christ, and she fears for her own soul for the blood she has shed. Even in the Holy Land, she found not renewed faith in God but only horror and carnage. She prays nightly for the deliverance of angels, but her prayers are denied, only further reinforcing her doubt in herself. In her heart, Amélie fears that she is an evil person, for all the good she might wish to do.

With the coming of the Living Saint, Jeanne d'Arc, Amélie saw in truth what it was she longed for, the blessing of Heavenly powers, knowledge and assurance in her soul that she is good, worthy. She has not found it. She looks to Jeanne with awe bordering on worship, amazed at the depth of the girl's piety, but at the same time, she resents her, and hates herself for feeling such jealously of one so holy. So far, she has been unable to work up the courage even to speak to Jeanne, if only to seek her blessing.

Personality: Amélie is reserved among strangers, feeling herself inferior to others and often uncomfortable even engaging in conversation despite her courage on the battlefield. When she does join conversations, she is blunt and forthright, clumsy in her speech despite her refined upbringing. She is reluctant to discuss religion out of her own misgivings. While she is at ease around other warriors, she cannot help feeling that it is a path that leads her away from God despite that it is the path she has chosen to walk. She is a loyal comrade, willing to risk her life for her allies and the defenseless. She tries to do good whenever she can, to make up for all the evil she feels she has done, but she knows where her talents lie. The best she can do is try to turn her sword upon the wicked and hope that God's judgment is merciful.

Lawtan · 01:14 AM

Name: Gwion “Morfran” ab Arnallt
Ethnicity: Welsh
Allegiance: Sorhaute
Profession: Bard/Assassin
Age: 29
Height: 5'10”
Weight: 146 lbs
Appearance: Gwion has a lanky and thoroughly calloused body, worn to survival beyond normal for his years. His build is akin to a mishmash of junk – strongly built arms surrounding a twig of a chest, followed down by thicker thighs…and tapering out at miniscule feet. Though the body appears ungainly, he is incredibly quick and fluid. His face is likely the only charming part about him – somewhat chiseled with a dark blond stubble. His emerald eyes are bright and captivating, and a frill of flicked blond hair hangs over his head unceremoniously. He holds a constant, if subtle, smirk, like some lord looking forward to the next hunt. Though seemingly odd at first, somewhat like a deformed beggar, closer examination would show the buildup of muscles built for evasion and indicating the strength of an accomplished archer. Even closer, metal ornaments only known to nobles shine under his hair and clothing. Gwion in battle covers his common clothes with a Jack-of-Plate vest and a bevor of articulated lames coming up around his neck, covering his smirk. Mail arms are attached to the vest, and hardened oiled leather cuisses are strapped to his legs.

Skill-at-Arms: 4 – He is a superb marksman, able to hit a running fox upon horseback at a distance of 100 yards and knows a form of sword fighting similar to that of the Italians, parrying to the benefit of his swordbreaker. However, in a war or battle, his skills are misplaced and would serve as clumsy. He is a grand horserider, perhaps due to his ability to shift into similar four-legged beasts.

Wisdom: 5 – As a child, Gwion poured over endless books about the mystical lands around. He learned the trade of minstrels playing for the court of Ceredigion, becoming skilled with the flute and lute, and listened to tacticians calculate the trajectory of ballistae. As an assassin and a bard, his bread relies on him furthering such knowledge.

Magic: 3 – Due to a pact with the Danann lady-fae, Cyrridven, sealed in blood over a cauldron, Gwion can shift into any beast less than or equal to his mass, limited by his health and anatomical knowledge, retaining his intelligence. He can communicate with ones he animals has been, however, he is cursed with perpetual illness. He has some lingering fear of the fey-lass who’d love to devour him as a delicious wren or succulent Gwion salmon. Actual Mechanic: Max Animal Size/Weight = (Gwion Weight-Gear Weight)/Sickness (Sickness on a scale of 1-4, 4 being current puking state)

Contract of the Cauldron Awenydd:

Vitality: 2 – Though well-trained, Gwion is supernaturally weaker than most around him. Between poor conditions that beset a contracted landless Noble, his sacrificed health, and the unsavory works he has dealt with, there is many a night where the bard purges his last meal.

Wealth: 2 – Most of Gwion’s contracted money goes to pay off his gear, or ends up paying for his meager supplies. He ignores several needs for his gear. Most of the time, he steals or hunts and gathers for food, unable to afford much there. Perhaps if he sold the few trinkets…but they are all that is left of his family.

Other Notable Attributes: Lorekeeper, knows apothecary poisons and antidotes, knows the basic anatomy of wrens, cats, mice and dogs, decent entertainer/minstrel, knows how to mend and repair his armor (how to sew), what food is edible, how to make a fire, and is a good animal trainer. He knows French, Gaelic, Latin, and Welsh. He can read Greek, and speak a pidgin form of Cornish.

Possessions: Customized Jack-of-plates armor, with mail arms and a bevor face-guard. Hardened leather Cuisses, Vambraces, an Ear Dagger, a hatchet, flasks of oil and apothecary poisons, flint, two arrow bags of 24 arrows, a sword breaker (longsword style), a recurve yew longbow with a notched stabilizer, several meters of chord (rope), a bag of sand (for filtering), a lute, a reed wooden flute, a blank book, and a fishing knife, and a restiched rucksack.

Relationships: Arnallt (foster-father, lord, deceased), Malgo (former Captor, deceased), Rhianna (foster-mother, MIA), Servant’s Children (deceased or lost) Cyrridven (Enchantress of the Tuatha De Danann, Fey), Drudwen(Prostitute,Assassin,First Lover) Prince Morcant (Benefactor in Sorhaute)

Social Rank: Noble, Landless

Honor: Gwion holds a philosophy of “the ends justify the means,” but restrains that on certain accounts. Firstly, he will not kill children, and will go to greater lengths to minimize the trauma of death in the event of his target having children. Secondly, Gwion believes strongly in telling accounts as truthfully as possible, despite most favoring stories that paint prettier pictures. That does not make Gwion trustworthy – he’ll outright lie anytime the occasion calls for it…but when he tells the truth, it is the full, uncensored truth as he knows it.

Biography:

Gwion never knew either of his true parents, and was discovered abandoned by a Lord and his wife, who had lost their first child died years before. It filled an emptiness for them, even though, as a foster child, Gwion would not be a viable for lordship.

The lad was strong, and never did illness touch him. Even so, he spent much time indoors. Assisted by a tutor who taught him to read, Gwion spent much time in the library, pouring over the tomes. Cartography, alchemy, animal anatomy, business, and strategy were all overshadowed by the tales of the gods and the adventures of heroes. In the forests nearby, he may read of a frightful Bean Si. Or perhaps there was a mystery under the bridge waiting to be found. Oftentimes, he would sneak around the buildings, pretending that the cooks were some intelligent monster he would have to sneak by. Despite being caught, he was not allowed to be punished, and so was for the most part free to be roguish.

Many a time, Gwion saw foreigners enter, and using a quick charm, would befriend and learn from them. Basic fighting and archery from the knights, basic craftsmanship from the traders, and most importantly, he learned to play music from the bards. Though some instruments, like the harp and drum, fascinated him, he stuck to the flute and the lute. Oftentimes afterwards one could hear amateur music float around the halls.

Upon reaching his early teens, Gwion’s studies were more focused. A noble needed to know certain things, among them how to defend himself and his underlings. As he was not built for direct battle, training focused on strategy, archery, and parrying skills. During this time, Gwion spent time with his foster-father. He was a strong warrior and always jolly around children. His mother, on the other hand, was a relief from the stricture, and a mind that challenged Gwion. From her, he learned keen speech and horsemanship. Over the years, his mind became sharp as well as a creative. As for the servant’s children, Gwion learned to love showing them things, and would defend his little party when anyone tried to punish them. In turn, when he was ill, the children would help with pans for vomit or cloth for the nose.

During his mid-teens, a decent age to be looking forward to marriage and other things, relationships went foul with a neighboring lord. While hosting a celebration, a sadistic bigot of a knight maimed the horses and broke the swords of Lord Malgo, who in turn left with words of war. Gwion was sent to be an ambassador, accompanied by a small group of knights. Upon being received, Malgo had the guards slain, and Gwion tortured. Gwion saved his own life by fabricating stories in favor of Malgo, and was thus kept prisoner for a time. He hated the lies, but feared the pain more. Hatred grew for the lord, Gwion needed to live and escape.

He developed a relationship with a nearby prisoner, a female prostitute, though they were poorly matched. Perhaps that was why they were attracted to one another, perhaps it was because of their close quarters, or perhaps they were using one another. She taught him how to seduce others in exchange for his stories. She spoke of Redguard, and an illicit affair with a prince, Morcant. The guard would constantly heckle her, to which she responded hostilely. After a few bashed in faces and broken noses, she was moved to a cell, rather than behind bars.

A year in his imprisonment, the guard was low one night, and the jailor was deep in his cups. Gwion fashioned his clothing into a rough dress, styled his grown hair as the prostitute, and proceeded to call the drunk guard over. Through a lengthy number of words, seductive poses, and a knockout blow, Gwion was able to free himself, leaving the man passed out on the floor. Rapidly, the young noble slipped through the buildings, and flew into the woods. Running further, he encountered visions of a beautiful elven maiden, robed in red, purple, and black. They faded as smoke rose in the distance. Dying fires rose over the buildings that outlined his home. Ruin after ruin laid upon the besieged land. As Gwion sneaked towards his home, he saw stakes with the head of his foster father. To the side, he then spotted one of the younger servants, a child and friend, was on the ground, gasping as blood spurted out from a shaft in her chest. With fevered eyes, she held out two jewels, those of his foster-grandfather’s, and his foster-mother’s bronze necklace. He tried to save her, but little could be done for such a deep wound. Shouts rang outside, alerting men to his presence. Crying a silent oath over the girl, he took the jewels, and ran.

Deep into the forest he ran, dogged by men all around, until Gwion tripped over a pair of roots, and fell, knocking himself out. In a sort of dreamlike haze, the elfin appeared before him. Cyrridven, keeper of the Cauldron Awenydd, truly did reside in the forests, and had come across the young, weak man. The men would be chopping the forest soon to replenish their tools of war, and she required someone to watch her cauldron whilst she found a new forest. So, she promised Gwion three drops of her cauldron’s power, granting the ability to escape his imminent danger, in return for him guarding it three nights. Groggily, the young man agreed, and so for 3 nights he stirred, hid, and guarded the cauldron.

Eventually, the fae returned, and as promised, offered the power of the cauldron. Gwion had to first spill three drops of his blood into the magic basin, signing the contract. When it came time to imbibe the three droplets, however, a tired Gwion miscounted and took in more. Enraged, the fae enchantress took on a fell appearance and charged at the youth. Frightened, the new magic within Gwion triggered, and he became a wren, fleeing both fae and man from the lands of Rhegend. On that journey, she dogged him – aa a Cat-Sith his flight, Cu-Sith in his run, and only stopped when he was human again. Frightened by this chased, Gwion fled further as a human to the lands of Rhegend, losing the fey. There, he saw the prostitute again, in truth a spy for her prince and master saboteur. Through her recommendation, and his former noble status, Prince Morcant took “pity” on the now landless noble, and offered to be Gwion’s benefactor…for a price.

Gwion was ill many months, and gave away some of his family jewels in the hope of help. However, the clergy saw “a shadow” making him ill, and the medicinal men remained perplexed. So, Gwion just worked to get use to this stomach-churning, bowel-stabbing pain. He regained his youthful strength somewhat, and served Morcant’s missions. Gwion waited years before using his ability again, terrified of the fey he tricked, however he was forced to use his magic to escape during a mission.

Over years, Gwion learned more of stealth and methods to disable and kill other targets. He turned old books of alchemy into tools for poisons. With his temporary forms, he could sneak to areas no human could, to spy and kill. Archery went from well-trained to masterful skill, with some earlier trajectory assisting in killing targets behind walls or in hidden archways. Gradually, Gwion built a nickname, “Morfran,” or Black Crow, and acquired unique tools for his new trade. He has quietly killed over two dozen targets, from rallying rebels to high nobles, and with each his scorn has grown. What was a “saving” from the prince became more of a form of slavery to him, though he was provided unrestricted access to the princes library. Gwion leapt at the chance to go, undersupplied, in the name of the kingdom of Sorhaute to meet with a varied group of others on a quest.

Curiously also, in Gwion's travels, he has come across these strange runes. He keeps them recorded in the hopes of one day finding out what they mean.

Personality: Gwion is a young cynic, and holds most people in contempt at best. On the road, he will often sing of old battles and sorcerous places. Around others, he is silent and attentive, listening for useful rumors. He is a witty banterer, if crushing in his indecent knowledge of an opponent, and leaves most at a loss for words. He puts forth a mask of sensuality and control, However, this mask falls when he is given the opportunity to relay the tales of old, to share his knowledge. Then, eyes shine and he permits himself to laugh. He warms up to such people, like an instructor to their favored pupil. To them, even if he winds up killing them later, he shows patience and an almost forgotten kindness.

Espy · 12:20 AM

Just going to leave this here so I can edit it slowly when I have time.

Name:
Ethnicity:
Allegiance:
Profession:
Age: 30
Height: 5'7"
Weight:
Appearance:

Skill-at-Arms: 3
Wisdom: 3
Magic: 4
Vitality: 3
Wealth: 3
Other Notable Attributes: (Any other qualities about your character you feel notable)

Possessions: (Items your character owns)
Relationships: (NPCs your character knows)
Social Rank: (Your character's position in society, and/or any military forces in their command)
Honor: (Your character's personal moral code and how strictly they adhere to it)
Biography: (Your character's personal history and their part in these events)

Quiet Man Cometh · Posted 02-03-2014, 12:00 AM

Still debating if I'm going to try and make a character or not. Don't want to get overloaded since I still have my cat rp to get going, and maybe another project if that gets off the ground. Decisions!

Salone · 06:35 AM

Ylnjor Magnusson, Swordbiter

Ethnicity: French
Allegiance: Sigurd the Dragonslayer
Profession: Ambassador of the Norse, Translator
Age: 32
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 236 pounds

Appearance:

Ylnjor is a stout man. Built of muscle and experience, his body is honed for combat and a life of work. Being well fed and well trained has sculpted him. Dark brunette hair flows unkempt from his scalp, and a large beard hangs low enough to reach the center of his chest. Part of the ridge of his beard dips low on both sides, making accommodations for a set of nasty long scars where his mouth was ran through with a sword. Above the cheekbones, his pale skin is adorned with dark red tattoos that impersonate the smearing of blood. Dark brown eyes stare from the tattoos, permanently affixed with fury. He wears a thick cloak of skins to protect him from the elements, as well as as chainmail to protect from 'anything else'. He is clothed in drab browns and greys, and several belts and straps adorn his person. Two longswords drape across his back, and daggers clink at his waist. A Mammen Axe hangs on a belt loop on his left, in easy range for him to access. He stands with a slight predatory hunch, As if leaning in closer to his prey. A scale mail shoulder has been woven over his riding cloak and adorned with hide, to offer some slight protection and denote some standing of importance.

Skill-at-Arms: 4. Several years of raids and battles has produced a resourceful and skilled combat veteran, highly proficient in axe and sword.

Wisdom: 2. Kidnapped at a young age, Ylnjor's forcuses were forced in to physical prowess instead of scholarly knowledge.

Magic: 1. While he knows of magic, he cannot comprehend its power or how it may be done. It is essentially "Wizard's stuff", and to him might distract one from more honest pursuits.

Vitality: 5. Ylnjor's body is as tough as they come. He is blessed with a quick recovery from the few maladies that he has experienced, and his prime physique allows him to take untold punishment.

Wealth: 4. Ransacking his former estate of its riches has left him with definite wealth. His pursuit of glory over luxury has allowed him to keep it.

Other Notable Attributes: Ylnjor can speak both French and Norse. Speaks with a slow, purposeful tone as he has to over enunciate due to injuries sustained during combat.

Possessions: Two Frankish longswords, one Mammen Axe, several small daggers, one chainmail outfit, several plain outfits of furs, leathers and hides. One donkey (Named Atgeir).

Relationships: Lord Sabatiere Jean Laucroix (Father, killed), Lady Rocinante Laucroix (Mother, killed), Gunnar Magnus (Adoptive father, kidnapper, raider)

Social Rank: Norse Ambassador to Charlemagne

Honor: Ylnjor's reputation among his people means everything to him. He upholds the Norse way of life to the best of his ability. If he is to murder someone, they will have an opportunity to defend themselves. Ylnjor will keep his word, although his word is seldom given. However, all sense of honor evaporates for anyone who has wronged him or deceived him, and are easily marked for death.

Biography: The man now known as Ylnjor Magnusson was born to the minor nobles Lord Sabatiere Jean Laucroix and Lady Rocinante Laucroix. His early years were passed in relative normalcy for a young nobleman. However, at the age of eight his life took an unexpected turn.

While learning horseback riding away from the estate, his party was set upon by Viking raiders. The raiders slew the entire group and kidnapping the child, deciding that he may have use to them. Lord Laucroix was sent a letter of ransom for his son not long after. However as the weeks went by, it became clear that he never intended to pay the price on his son's head. Left with a child they never intended to keep, the raiders were perplexed. One decided to keep the child and raise it as his own. Adopting him in to their society, he was given a new name: Ylnjor Magnusson.

The child had a difficult time adjusting to the hardships and fierce environment of the Norse lands. Once he did however, he embraced it. These people cared more for him than his parents ever had. He learned to fight, to subsist, to raid and bring wealth and glory to his adopted homeland. Throughout the years he participated in countless raids across the land, until one such tour brought him back to his original home.

Ylnjor personally led the attack on his old estate. During the raid he met face to face with his former father. Confronting him, Ylnjor demanded answers as to why he was abandoned. Lord Laucroix used this time as a diversion, and attacked Ylnjor. Laucroix drove his sword through his son's face, piercing both cheeks with his blade and slicing his tongue. Ylnjor was able to overcome the attack and slay Lord Laucroix, but the encounter left him with permanent scars upon his cheeks and slurring of his speech. His wounds inspired the nickname 'Swordbiter,' which continued to follow him as he rose in prominence among the Vikings.

He has felt a wedge driven between him and his homeland however, as Sigurd and Charlemagne seek an alliance between their people against a common enemy. Ylnjor has been selected as ambassador to Charlemagne's Court, a choice he sees as an insult. The humor of someone who has slaughtered former countrymen being selected as an emissary is not lost on him, but he feels he has been denied his right as a Viking to Valhalla. Robbed of his chance to die on the battlefield, he sees wasting away in the court of soft men to be a precursor to what awaits him behind Hel's gates. The position has left him angry and bitter, and at times seething with rage that is barely masked by proper wording. He hopes that Sigurd and Charlemagne will soon come to an agreement so he may return to where he believes he is needed most, and end the feeling that Sigurd, like Lord Lacroix, has abandoned him to an uncertain fate.

Personality: Ylnjor is brash and bitter. He speaks in odd idioms and analogies meshed between his two cultures. His comedy consists of gallows humor and he is quick to see the negative in things. He is easily offended and jumps at the chance to defend his reputation and bravado. He finds the wealth and luxuriousness that surrounds him to be a gold-lined cage built to rob him of his durability. He comes off incredibly gruff in conversation and would rather brandish an axe than debate 'pointless gossip' between lands 'like women by the pantry'. In unseen irony, his stubbornness and absolute unwillingness to compromise in what he (and what he thinks Sigurd) wants is his biggest hurdle in the relations between Charlemagne and his people.

Vicious Whisper · Posted 02-06-2014, 05:59 PM

I'm wondering if this is a bit much for me.

Espy · Posted 02-06-2014, 06:18 PM

Hm...It'll probably be similar in style to the Eschaton RP, if you need a reference point.

Salone · Posted 02-06-2014, 06:24 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Vicious Whisper

I'm wondering if this is a bit much for me.

The trick is to just name drop in vague ways to make it appear that your character knows what is going on and what time period they're in.

At least, that's the cheater's way around it. And by cheater, I mean me.

Gallagher · Posted 02-06-2014, 07:32 PM

It looks a lot worse than it is, really. If you have a question, stab Suze until he answers or someone answers for him. We're real chill about helping you out every step of the way. Even with working through actual posts.

Suzerain of Sheol · Posted 02-06-2014, 07:57 PM

I suppose it depends on what kind of RP you're looking for, but I'd certainly be willing to have you, and am available to answer any questions.

Lawtan · Posted 02-08-2014, 11:07 AM

*Raises hand* I can help on anything Magic/Myth related

Quiet Man Cometh · 01:12 AM

Okay, here's my space holder for something I will eventually get around to making. Still have more than a few things to work out.

Name: Mistral Chastain
Ethnicity: French
Allegiance: The Holy-Emperor Charlemagne
Profession: Hedge Knight
Age: 32
Height: 5'4
Weight: 154 lbs
Appearance: Mistral has the look of someone noble born, finely featured and with naturally pale skin, but it is often rough or tanned from travelling on the road and working on her equipment. Her hair is a light chestnut like many in her family and her eyes are dark green and wide. Her armour is well kept but nothing particularly unique. She wears heavy fabric skirting around her hips and legs as extra protection for her legs, which are not as heavily armour to allow her flexibility to mount and ride her horse with less trouble.

Skill-at-Arms: 4. Mistral learned the bulk of her fighting skills from formal training. Her practical experiences with combat are focused on small skirmishes and one on one battles she has encountered in her wanderings since gaining her knighthood.
Wisdom: 3. Mistral was given a basic education as a child in her home, focused on literature and domestic arts, in preparation to marry. In her knight training she learned horsemanship, etiquette, peerage and heraldry, and basic knowledge of laws and customs.
Magic: 3. In exchange for the enchantment on her blade, Mistral must follow the rules set by Gadriel, which include never attacking an innocent or an unarmed opponent and never using the blade frivolously, such as in a bar brawl.
Vitality: 4. Mistral is very hardy, which serves her well with the time she spends out of doors and sleeping wherever she can find suitable ground.
Wealth: 2. Typically has only enough at any given time to feed herself and her horse and maintain the minimum of supplies needed to ensure the upkeep of her gear.
Other Notable Attributes: speaks and reads French and English.

Possessions: Vaillance (longsword enchanted by Gadriel), plate armour in French style with close helmet, Claude (dapple grey heavy horse), high backed saddle, face plate and leather protective barding for his chest, rondel, crossbow and quarrels, horseman's mace, items for basic armour/weapon upkeep (oils, whetstone, leather strips...), heavy bedroll, travel food (dried meats and fruits, nuts, bread if not far from a city or town).
Relationships: Lady Mary Chastain (mother, English). Seigneur Jean-Luc Chastain (father, French). Marie, Sophie and Michelle (twins), Pascale (sisters). Guillame de Marechal (knight and mentor).
Social Rank: Knighted. Landless.
Honor: Devout Christian, and holds the code of Chivalry equally high. Always tries to do right by people she meets, but is not afraid to meet violence with violence, especially if she feel's she's justified.
Biography: An active imagination, and indulgent father, and too many older sisters to marry off meant that Mistral grew up with more freedom than one would expect for a noble daughter, after she made it clear she was more interested in climbing trees and sparing with sticks than learning to be a housewife. Allowing her to act as she would also helped to silence the complaints from her tutors who were just as happy to let her be and focus on turning her sisters into ideal young women.

As a young girl, Mistral was always enamored of knights and swordplay, begging to go to tournaments and sneaking away to watch groups of passing knights and their squires. Months of hinting, arguing, debate, and straight out insistence finally wore her father down enough that he would allow her to attend an academy for knightly training, provided she could find one that would accept her.

Whether her father intended her to or not, Mistral found herself in training at a school run by the famed English knight Guillame de Marechal. Sir Guillame’s favour spared Mistral from harsh bullying by the other squires, but even so, as the only girl present, Mistral ended up on the receiving end of insults and bruises more often than not. As determined as the next individual, perhaps more so, Mistral persevered.

Mistral has removed herself from succession in her family line, and so only has a fraction of the wealth she was born with. She spends nearly all of it maintaining her gear, horse, and health, sleeping outside or in a thoughtful person’s stable in order to save what money she has.

Since gaining her knighthood, Mistral has been wandering the country regions of France, sometimes acting as escort of bodyguard as needed or requested, sometimes defending the peasantry from brigands other landless knights. As such, her combat experience is highest in smaller skirmishes or one on one combat. Her only large scale battle experience to date was at Crecy, helping to repel the invading English. It was not a battle she rightly should have survived, but if she were asked, she would say that a friend of God must have been preserving her. Just for what reason, she has yet to decide.

Personality: Mistral’s definitive trait is the diehard determination that saw her through training to become a knight. Somewhat idealistic from the romanticized views of knights that she held as a child, she still insists on remaining optimistic even when faced with the harsh realities of the world.

Lawtan · Posted 02-14-2014, 08:26 PM

*Whistling around Camelot*

Gallagher · Posted 02-20-2014, 04:36 AM

Whew. Finally finished.

Kier Bodhar (formerly mac Alasdair)

Ethnicity: Scottish
Allegiance: The Holy-Emperor Charlemagne
Profession: Varlet
Age: 24
Height: 6’
Weight: 178lbs
Appearance: Though built thickly, Kier has little muscle to speak of and a soft, rounded face. His skin is darker than that of most of his family, but easily freckled all the same. That is, except where it’s covered by patches of albino skin. One of these spots is on the right side of his face, including his entire eye and following down along his jaw. The eye on this side is a pale gray-ish pink, while the left is teal. Other spots are along the right side of his ribs, the back of his left hand, from his left heel halfway up the back of his shin, most of his skull down along the length of his spine, and one other that goes unseen and unmentioned. Wherever these spots are, his hair is white-blond. Everywhere else, it’s a bright red.

Skill-at-Arms: 2 – While he’s never looked for fights, he’s had to defend himself in the past. Amélie has helped teach him basic techniques, but most he can’t get the hang of.
Wisdom: 4 – Much of his free time growing up was spent learning skills from those around him. Instead of a formal education or writings to learn from, he had ample time, hands ready to be used, and adults kind enough to let him watch or assist with their work. He’d never master how to bake the perfect pie, flawlessly repair clothing, or carve a bowl that wasn’t lopsided, but he could always make the most of what he had.
Magic: 4 – In exchange for half of his sight, he was given control of the water element, limited only by his imagination and the practice he puts into it. He has plenty of the former, but the latter he has neglected severely, only making use of a couple practical skills.
Vitality: 4 – Besides the tendency for his lighter patches of skin to burn in the sun, Kier has never had any particularly serious illnesses or injuries.
Wealth: 2 – After his own supplies and any that Amélie neglects, anything he has left is saved for whatever toy or trinket happens to catch his eye.
Other Notable Attributes: Speaks Gaelic, English, and French. Can read and write basic Gaelic, a bit of French, and even less Latin.

Possessions: Travel and campaign gear and provisions
Relationships: Alasdar mac Neill (father), Maire inghean Einri (mother), Caitilin inghean Alasdair (sister), Dame Amélie Sans-Dieu de la Roche-Blanche (varlet to), Bo (best friend)
Social Rank: Commoner, Landless
Honor: Kier considers himself a Christian, but he’s never been devout. He seeks to do as much good as he can, and isn’t prone to either anger or violence, despite his efforts to help in the war. Above all, he thinks that people should try to find their own answers instead of following blindly and make the most of their lives.

Biography: Kier was the second child to Alasdar and Maire, and their last. From the very first moments of his life, it was obvious that there was something wrong with him. In less than an hour of time outside, the spots on his skin would burn horribly, and even looking out when the sun was bright would hurt his eyes. While his mother embraced it all as a sign that the boy was closer to God, his father, and the rest of his family, thought otherwise. Alasdar remained as close to Caitilin as he ever was, but never bonded with his son, and grew distant from the woman that had birthed such a sin. With a temper and impulsive nature all her own, once she’d had enough neglect, Maire took her children, supplies, and their savings and left their home in the Scottish Highlands. The three stopped in several villages between there and Lowlands, Maire taking what temporary work she could to make sure they could get by, but often needing to barter with what few trinkets they had. This left the children to either run around on their own, with Caitilin looking after Kier, or under the care of whichever villagers their mother happened to make friends with.

Eventually, Caitilin was old enough to help the small family earn their wages, allowing their mother to take them farther from their home. They went from Scotland to England, then from there across the waters to France just before the death of Arthur, never truly settling until Kier was well into his teens. Late one summer, while exploring just outside of the town, Kier stumbled upon a faery. Though he’d often dreamt of what he would do if the chance arrived, once it had, he didn’t have a clue what he could ask for. The faery sent him on his way, uninterested in its time being wasted, but invited the odd young man to return the next year. The months passed, and Kier heard more and more stories of the war. He grew a desire to help defend the lands, like the great knights were fighting so hard to do, despite being so obviously unfit for battle. He began preparations to head to a castle and find someone that would train him. For weeks, he would head out before dusk to search for the faery, certain now of what his purpose in life must be, and what he would ask of it. It was a cool afternoon, just a few days before his planned departure from the town, that he met the faery again. The two talked for hours until it was decided that in exchange for all sight in his right eye, he would be given control over part of nature. Just what this meant, the faery refused to say without Kier paying a higher price, but he accepted the deal all the same. After all, any magic was bound to help him reach his goal.

In the years that followed, Kier made his way South to Avignon. He never had a chance of being the warrior he’d wanted to be, but was granted work under a knight.

Personality: Always having to keep his limits in mind since childhood, he tries to hold himself back and keep his head low, but his impulsive nature gets the better of him. He’ll get attached to people easily and do what he can to make them happy and at ease, or at least what he assumes will do the trick, rarely asking if his assumptions are correct beforehand. He can be stubborn even over minor things, and rebel just for the sake of rebelling. While optimistic by nature, Kier is prone to mood swings and will either pretend to keep his hopes up, or wallow in his misery until something (usually insignificant) snaps him out of it. Above all, he wants to do something worthwhile with his life, even if people never think he is worth anything. He struggles to accept himself and is quick to react when he believes rejection is imminent.

Suzerain of Sheol Desolation Denizen		Alas, Camelot! OOC -- recruiting!	#1
	ALAS, CAMELOT! A dystopic, post-Arthurian story of war and treachery, incorporating various elements of European myth and history into a glorious, chaotic cauldron of epicness! TIMELINE AND BACKSTORY 1337 – The Battle of Camlann. Arthur is killed by Mordred. Morgan le Fey gains possession of the Sangreal. Excalibur passes to Uriens, who flees to Sorhaute and rallies his men. The Knights of the Round Table are scattered. Guinevere commits suicide. 1338 – Mordred conquers Camelot and installs himself as King of all Logres. Via Morgan, he forges pacts with dark powers and begins to suppress all of England beneath his rule. The Knights of Arthur are hunted down and executed in bloody spectacle. Those who evade capture flee to France or the few remaining havens of noblesse in the land. Sir Galahad is crucified atop the bastion of Camelot and left to be devoured by crows. 1339 – Gathering strength, Uriens prepares for war with Mordred. With him stand his son Sir Ywain, and Sirs Gawain, Gareth, and Gaheris, his nephews. Learning of their marshaling resistance, Morgan sends an assassin to infiltrate Sorhaute and poison Uriens (her estranged husband), but the plot is foiled by Merlin, who appears to lend aid to their cause. 1340 – Feigning fealty to Mordred, King Leodegrance of Lyonesse calls forth his strength and marches to crush the rebel Uriens, only to betray Mordred's company and slaughter them to a man. He seals an alliance with Uriens and bolsters their cause with 5,000 soldiers. Further, he brings in his train Sir Tristam, Sir Ector, and Sir Kay, and most importantly, a second Round Table. A new fellowship of knighthood is formed. 1341 – Distraught by Merlin's urging for caution and preparation, Ector and Kay ride out from Sorhaute with their retainers and attempt to capture Wales from the Black Prince Edward, Mordred's most trusted commander. They fail hideously and are executed in Camelot, their heads sent to Uriens as a warning. Later that year, Lancelot appears in the north of England and begins massacring Mordred's forces. None can stand against him. 1342 – Rumor reaches England of a great armada of ships mustering in Norway. Seeing the anarchy in Logres, the Vikings under Sigurd the Dragonslayer prepare to conquer the divided land and spread the worship of their grim gods. They are further spurred by omens sent to Sigurd in dreams by Oden himself warning of the wicked spirits that Mordred has bound to his service. His army is led by the Valkyrja Brynhildr In England, Uriens and Leodegrance prepare to attack Mordred at Camelot. 1343 – The Battle of Stonehenge is fought, mere miles north of Camelot. Uriens and his knights seem to win the day until Mordred takes the field. Uriens attempts to battle him with Excalibur, but is slain, and no other weapon in their possession may wound him. The blessed sword Caliburn resides nearby, driven into the crown-stone of the Henge, and Gawaine fights his way to the hill and attempts to draw it forth, but he is unworthy and cannot. He is cut down by Mordred. Leodegrance rallies what remains of his knights and flees the field. They suffer horrible losses and return to Sorhaute to await the end. 1344 – The Fisher King appears in Sorhaute, bearing with him the shattered fragments of the Spear of Wrath, the sacred Longinus which pierced the side of Christ. He tells Leodegrance that it possesses the power to unmake the spells on Mordred, but there is no hammer in this land that can reforge the blade, nor any fire hot enough to smelt it. The Fisher King perishes soon after, his spirit ravaged by the corruption of the Grail, it was his last effort to deliver hope to the beleaguered knights. Leodegrance safeguards the Spear and charges Merlin to find the means to forge it anew. 1345 – The Nordic Host lands in Lothian and lays waste to Mordred's garrison there. They drive the dark knights from the north of England and solidify a holdfast from which to launch a concentrated attack to the south. They are joined by Lancelot. 1346 – The Battle of Crecy. Mordred invades northern France, who under Charlemagne has declared itself the enemy of this new Logresian regime. The battle is brutal, led by Prince Edward, who fights Cherlemagne himself in single combat. He shatters Joyeuese, Charlemagne's holy sword, but is driven off before he can kill the emperor. Edward's army is driven back to the coast, but the French forces suffer heavy losses and cannot press a retaliation. 1347 – Jeanne d'Arc appears in the Emperor's court at Avignon, claiming to have been visited by an Arch-Angel and given a prophecy of the Sangreal's restoration to the Holy Empire. As proof of her words, she heals the Emperor's daughter Theodrada of leprosy, and reforges Joyeuse with holy fire. Galvanized by these miracles, Charlemagne declares her a Saint and makes her his chief adviser in the war against Mordred. SOVEREIGN POWERS, NOTABLE NPCS, AND THEIR FORCES IN MORDRED'S COURT 93,000 men-at-arms -Mordred the Bastard, Arthur's son, wielding Excalibur and the Grail -Morgan le Fey, a powerful witch who can command demons -Sir Agravaine, Arthur's nephew, a chief among Mordred's knights -Sir Maleagant, sworn enemy of Lancelot and a powerful knight renowned for his villainy -Prince Edward the Black, lord of Wales under Mordred and commander of his forces. His armor is blessed by demons. -Sir John Chandos, Edward's second-in-command and field officer, a masterful tactician -Vortigern, a heathen chieftain commanding 10,000 warriors, sworn to Mordred's service -Ganelon, a traitorous French lord with knowledge of Charlemagne's court, wielder of the unholy sword Murglais AMONG THE NORSE 67,000 men-at-arms -Sigurd the Dragonslayer, wielding the holy sword Balmung, rides the divine horse Grani -Brynhildr, a warrior-maiden from the ranks of the Valkyrie, leading Sigurd's armies -Ragnar Lodbrok, son of Sigurd, wielding the holy sword Gram, a famed commander -Waltheof, son of the Nordic king Harald and a priest of Oden. A mystic wielding strange powers. -Lancelot, wielding the cursed meteoric sword Arondight, the mightiest knight in the world, now a close friend to Sigurd IN THE COURT OF CHARLEMAGNE 116,000 men-at-arms -Charlemagne, the Holy Emperor, wielding the holy sword Joyeuse -Hildegard, wife of Charlemagne, Holy Empress -Bradamante, the Empress's bodyguard, a paladin and a nun, equal in rank to Roland -Roland, the First Peer of Charlemagne, wielding the holy sword Durandal -Jeanne d'Arc, the Living Saint, able to work miracles, the spiritual core of the Crusade -Sir Bors, exiled from Camelot. A former French noble, he is highly esteemed by Charlemagne. One of the greatest knights in the world -Fierabras, a Paladin, a giant Saracen warrior and convert to Christianity -Astolphe, a Paladin, nephew of Charlemagne and brother to Roland -Ogier the Dane, a Paladin, a mighty Danish warrior, wielding the holy swords Curtana and Sauvagine -Marphisa, a Paladin, a warrior-queen from India, with 3,000 soldiers in her retinue -Ruggiere, a Paladin and brother to Marphisa, in unrequited love with Bradamante -Turpin de Reims, a Paladin and Warrior-Priest, wielding the holy sword Almace -Maugris, a Paladin and Sorcerer, wielder of the enchanted sword Froberge, rides the fairy-steed Bayard -Charles Martel, father of Charlemagne, a Paladin, wielding a meteoric hammer called Fulminer IN SORHAUTE 11,000 men-at-arms -King Leodegrance, father of Guinevere, wielding the holy sword Ascalon -Sir Tristam, first knight of Lyonesse, wielding the holy sword Clarent -Sir Gareth, brother of Sir Gawaine, a mighty knight, wielding Gawaine's holy sword Galatine -Sir Gaheris, second brother of Sir Gawaine, holds an oath of vengeance against Mordred -Merlin, the Enchanter, currently questing for the means to reforge the Spear of Wrath MAGIC Magic in this setting works by forging contracts with powerful spirits from the outer world. This spirits include Angels, Faery, Demons, and “Gods”, though Gods in this context are merely groups of powerful spirits allied to a common cause and offering pacts only to those who worship them. To play a character capable of wielding magic, you must define both the specific entity (or entities, but having multiple obligations to spirits can become very dangerous) that you've contracted yourself to, what specific powers you've been promised, and what the terms of the agreement are. You will always have access to these particular powers as long as you don't violate the contract, and you may call on your bound spirit to renegotiate for further abilities, however, the terms of subsequent agreements will likely be much stricter. Angels and Gods are the safest spirits to parley with, however, they are also the hardest to enter into an agreement with, and they will only offer their blessing to a character who is willing to live by the moral code they exemplify. Their granted powers tend to range from healing, the aiding of others, helping to win justified battles (in various way), smiting the wicked, etc. Faery are more dangerous to bargain with, trying to twist deals so that they are best served, but when pressed will agree to mutually beneficial contracts. They delight in offering additional power at a high price to their partners. Their granted powers tend to be more subtle, manipulating probability, bewitching the mind, creating illusions, etc, though they can grant power over elemental forces as well. Demons offer tremendous powers, but will not agree to anything but the most sinister contracts. There is no way to strike a beneficial bargain with these Hellish spirits, and they will always claim their price from the warlock. However, so long as their interests are served, the magics they impart are stronger than those of any other spirit, particularly adept at killing things in various ways and sowing havoc throughout the land. They will only too easily tempt their partners with even greater powers for still more horrible promises. Treat with them at your utmost peril. CHARACTER SHEET Name: Ethnicity: Allegiance: Profession: Age: Height: Weight: Appearance: Skill-at-Arms: (How skilled your character is in battle, and why they are such) Wisdom: (The breadth of your character's knowledge, list by specific field) Magic: (The terms of any supernatural pacts your character is entered in, and the powers they gain from them) Vitality: (How healthy your character is, and their endurance) Wealth: (How much capital your character can command, and what form it takes) Other Notable Attributes: (Any other qualities about your character you feel notable) Possessions: (Items your character owns) Relationships: (NPCs your character knows) Social Rank: (Your character's position in society, and/or any military forces in their command) Honor: (Your character's personal moral code and how strictly they adhere to it) Biography: (Your character's personal history and their part in these events) RP RULES -Trisphee rules are in full enforcement -One character per player barring special exceptions (I will be playing the NPCs and my own character) -The game will begin in Charlemagne's court in France. Please tailor your character to fit this. Almost any ethnicity and background is allowed due to the cosmopolitan nature of his empire. Just nothing from the Americas. -Posts as literate as possible. I don't expect huge paragraphs here, but make them count, and spell-check and such, obviously. -Character interaction is a high priority. There will be plenty of combat and adventure, but I want people talking to each other and the NPCs. -Power level is "moderate", you can be badass (knights taking on 10 lesser men at once, etc), but no superheroes. And no godmodding, please. -Character death is by the controlling player's agreement only. And try not to fight each other. -Content ratings: Gore, nothing silly but otherwise fine; Language, try to keep it period-appropriate. Swearing's fine if it's in their character, but it still shouldn't sound modern if that makes sense; Sex content, minimal to none, please. Not what we're doing here. -Finally, don't be put off by not knowing a whole lot about these stories or this period in history, most of this stuff is just my imagination playing with ideas anyway. PLAYER CHARACTERS Suzerain of Sheol Dame Amélie Sans-Dieu de la Roche-Blanche Ethnicity: French Allegiance: The Holy-Emperor Charlemagne Profession: Knight Age: 34 Height: 5'9” Weight: 183 lbs Appearance: Powerfully muscled, her body has been conditioned by over a decade of life on the road and at war. A blow from a sword-hilt broke her nose in her youth and it shows; she has a deep scar running from the right corner of her mouth to her jawline. Hair is brown and close-cropped, eyes dusty brown and small. Her posture betrays her lacking sense of self-worth. She wears a jack-of-plates covered in lacquered leather painted deep crimson, along with a full mail harness and hosen. She carries a heavy round-shield of Norman design, an arming sword, and a short lance that doubles as a spear in close quarters. Skill-at-Arms: 5 (A decorated knight, she has fought in several battles across the countryside of France, participated in (and ranked highly) in many tourneys. She is, frankly, very good at killing people, which does little to ease her doubts about her soul's fate) Wisdom: 3 (Taught to read and write as per her tutelage in the convent, schooled in the manners of court though she rarely attends when she can help it. Has studied the Scriptures in some detail.) Magic: 1 (Despite her sincerest prayers, she cannot make contact with an angel willing to bless her, she does not understand and is supremely jealous of others who can work magic.) Vitality: 4 (Well-fed through her youth, trained in the rigors of knighthood, well-used to traveling, she is exceptionally hardy and has thus far managed to avoid any serious injuries in battle.) Wealth: 3 (She owns nothing but her equipment and horse, but she does not scruple to outfit herself with the best armor and weapons she can afford. She rarely goes hungry, and often gives to the poor after her other expenses are taken care of) Other Notable Attributes: Was taught sewing, gardening, and singing in the convent, though she isn't particularly good at any of them. Working knowledge of equipment maintenance, horse-care, and the treatment of battlefield injuries. She is fluent in French, Latin, and Arabic. Possessions: Destrier and barding, Jack-of-plates armor, Chainmail harness and cuisses, Arming Sword, Short Lance, Rondel dagger, Aventail helm with vizard, leather mantle, leather boots, plate gauntlets and greaves Relationships: Phillipe (older brother, deceased), Alain (younger brother, monk), Lady Marguerite de la Roche-Blanche (mother, deceased), Lord Robere de la Roche-Blanche (father, vassal of Charlemagne), Sir Diodore de Saint-Pierre (her commander in the Knights-Errant), Dame Bradamante (her mentor at court and the knight she looks up to the most) Social Rank: Noble, Knighted, Landless Honor: An adherent to Christian ascetic principles when she can manage them, but her vows often prove too difficult for her to maintain. Likewise she is devoted to the code of Chivalry, and strives to act honorably in all things, but her temper often gets the better of her and she resorts to violence more easily than she is comfortable with. Biography: She was born to the Lord and Lady de la Roche-Blanche, a prized vassal-house of the Emperor. She was extremely close with her brother Phillipe as a child, and yearned to follow his path into knighthood, but her father forbade it. At the age of 12, she convinced herself that she heard the calling of God and chose to join the Sisters of the Blessed Mary rather than accept a marriage to one of her father's allies. Word of her mother's death giving birth to her younger brother Alain reached her in the convent. The boy survived, though she did not meet him for many years later. Every now and then, Phillipe would visit her, and she longed to leave to live with him in court, but he would not allow it out of honor for their father. When Phillipe was slain on campaign against the Saracens, Amélie was devastated. At the age of 15 she left the convent and went to see her father, declaring her intent to join the Poor Knights of Charlemagne's court. So broken by the loss of his son and wife, the aging man allowed her to go, and they have spoken only rarely since. Amélie's time as a knight-apprentice was difficult, she felt herself clumsy and unskilled to the other more-experienced squires, but out of sheer diligence and lack of anything else to do with her life, she persevered and trained tirelessly for well on 6 years until she was finally granted leave to accompany her master to war. Proving herself in battle – she had become quite skilled by this point – she was shortly thereafter knighted and placed under the command of Sir Diodore de Saint-Pierre, charged to go forth as a Knight-Errant and right what wrongs she could throughout the empire. So began her life as a knight, and though it brought her peace and fulfillment to bring aid to the weak, it was a lonesome existence, passing through towns and cities, rarely finding friends in those she lent her strength. Later came wars in the east, fighting the same heathens who had murdered her brother, and she won great glory there. Yet one by one her comrades-in-arms died around her until the Crusade was finally given up as lost and she returned with the French armies in defeat. Afterward, she took up a more permanent residence in the Emperor's Court at Avignon, though she ever refused grants of land and titles of her own, preferring the life of soldiering. Here she met the Lady Bradamante, a Paladin of legendary deeds. They became fast friends and swore oaths of alliance. She remains Amélie's only true companion, though Bradamante is often carried away on great quests with the other Paladins. Amélie yearns to one day be esteemed enough to accompany her. Through all her travels, Amélie has struggled with her faith in God and the church. The life of violence she has chosen conflicts with the gentle teachings of Christ, and she fears for her own soul for the blood she has shed. Even in the Holy Land, she found not renewed faith in God but only horror and carnage. She prays nightly for the deliverance of angels, but her prayers are denied, only further reinforcing her doubt in herself. In her heart, Amélie fears that she is an evil person, for all the good she might wish to do. With the coming of the Living Saint, Jeanne d'Arc, Amélie saw in truth what it was she longed for, the blessing of Heavenly powers, knowledge and assurance in her soul that she is good, worthy. She has not found it. She looks to Jeanne with awe bordering on worship, amazed at the depth of the girl's piety, but at the same time, she resents her, and hates herself for feeling such jealously of one so holy. So far, she has been unable to work up the courage even to speak to Jeanne, if only to seek her blessing. Personality: Amélie is reserved among strangers, feeling herself inferior to others and often uncomfortable even engaging in conversation despite her courage on the battlefield. When she does join conversations, she is blunt and forthright, clumsy in her speech despite her refined upbringing. She is reluctant to discuss religion out of her own misgivings. While she is at ease around other warriors, she cannot help feeling that it is a path that leads her away from God despite that it is the path she has chosen to walk. She is a loyal comrade, willing to risk her life for her allies and the defenseless. She tries to do good whenever she can, to make up for all the evil she feels she has done, but she knows where her talents lie. The best she can do is try to turn her sword upon the wicked and hope that God's judgment is merciful. Lawtan Name: Gwion “Morfran” ab Arnallt Ethnicity: Welsh Allegiance: Sorhaute Profession: Bard/Assassin Age: 29 Height: 5'10” Weight: 146 lbs Appearance: Gwion has a lanky and thoroughly calloused body, worn to survival beyond normal for his years. His build is akin to a mishmash of junk – strongly built arms surrounding a twig of a chest, followed down by thicker thighs…and tapering out at miniscule feet. Though the body appears ungainly, he is incredibly quick and fluid. His face is likely the only charming part about him – somewhat chiseled with a dark blond stubble. His emerald eyes are bright and captivating, and a frill of flicked blond hair hangs over his head unceremoniously. He holds a constant, if subtle, smirk, like some lord looking forward to the next hunt. Though seemingly odd at first, somewhat like a deformed beggar, closer examination would show the buildup of muscles built for evasion and indicating the strength of an accomplished archer. Even closer, metal ornaments only known to nobles shine under his hair and clothing. Gwion in battle covers his common clothes with a Jack-of-Plate vest and a bevor of articulated lames coming up around his neck, covering his smirk. Mail arms are attached to the vest, and hardened oiled leather cuisses are strapped to his legs. Skill-at-Arms: 4 – He is a superb marksman, able to hit a running fox upon horseback at a distance of 100 yards and knows a form of sword fighting similar to that of the Italians, parrying to the benefit of his swordbreaker. However, in a war or battle, his skills are misplaced and would serve as clumsy. He is a grand horserider, perhaps due to his ability to shift into similar four-legged beasts. Wisdom: 5 – As a child, Gwion poured over endless books about the mystical lands around. He learned the trade of minstrels playing for the court of Ceredigion, becoming skilled with the flute and lute, and listened to tacticians calculate the trajectory of ballistae. As an assassin and a bard, his bread relies on him furthering such knowledge. Magic: 3 – Due to a pact with the Danann lady-fae, Cyrridven, sealed in blood over a cauldron, Gwion can shift into any beast less than or equal to his mass, limited by his health and anatomical knowledge, retaining his intelligence. He can communicate with ones he animals has been, however, he is cursed with perpetual illness. He has some lingering fear of the fey-lass who’d love to devour him as a delicious wren or succulent Gwion salmon. Actual Mechanic: Max Animal Size/Weight = (Gwion Weight-Gear Weight)/Sickness (Sickness on a scale of 1-4, 4 being current puking state) Contract of the Cauldron Awenydd: I am Awenyyd, The magic of inspiration, To be gifted to those in need, ---- Bid those who lost sight, Give up their might, And those with face horrid, Sacrifice their hoard, I will grant upon either thee, An infinite voice of Beauty. ---- Bid thee fae-enmeshed, Give to me a gift of flesh, A hand, an eye, a leg, a head, Or perhaps serve my fae her bread, Seven years a servile steed, With that, you may be freed. ---- Bid thee who flees, And hides under bees, To in open stir my belly, And with three drops of jelly, Will lose health yet hide the best, In the shape of smaller beasts, ---- Thrice the blood spill in my chur, Thrice a night sit and stir, To sing in voice of pretty birds, To live free from Sith herds, To daily take two smaller shapes, And escape this Cauldron’s mouth agape, ---- Beware ye take of me, Only droplets three, Or fast the hare ye widely run, Over hill and under sun, Stronger strength your magic will have, If three nights you outrun the fey-lass. Vitality: 2 – Though well-trained, Gwion is supernaturally weaker than most around him. Between poor conditions that beset a contracted landless Noble, his sacrificed health, and the unsavory works he has dealt with, there is many a night where the bard purges his last meal. Wealth: 2 – Most of Gwion’s contracted money goes to pay off his gear, or ends up paying for his meager supplies. He ignores several needs for his gear. Most of the time, he steals or hunts and gathers for food, unable to afford much there. Perhaps if he sold the few trinkets…but they are all that is left of his family. Other Notable Attributes: Lorekeeper, knows apothecary poisons and antidotes, knows the basic anatomy of wrens, cats, mice and dogs, decent entertainer/minstrel, knows how to mend and repair his armor (how to sew), what food is edible, how to make a fire, and is a good animal trainer. He knows French, Gaelic, Latin, and Welsh. He can read Greek, and speak a pidgin form of Cornish. Possessions: Customized Jack-of-plates armor, with mail arms and a bevor face-guard. Hardened leather Cuisses, Vambraces, an Ear Dagger, a hatchet, flasks of oil and apothecary poisons, flint, two arrow bags of 24 arrows, a sword breaker (longsword style), a recurve yew longbow with a notched stabilizer, several meters of chord (rope), a bag of sand (for filtering), a lute, a reed wooden flute, a blank book, and a fishing knife, and a restiched rucksack. Relationships: Arnallt (foster-father, lord, deceased), Malgo (former Captor, deceased), Rhianna (foster-mother, MIA), Servant’s Children (deceased or lost) Cyrridven (Enchantress of the Tuatha De Danann, Fey), Drudwen(Prostitute,Assassin,First Lover) Prince Morcant (Benefactor in Sorhaute) Social Rank: Noble, Landless Honor: Gwion holds a philosophy of “the ends justify the means,” but restrains that on certain accounts. Firstly, he will not kill children, and will go to greater lengths to minimize the trauma of death in the event of his target having children. Secondly, Gwion believes strongly in telling accounts as truthfully as possible, despite most favoring stories that paint prettier pictures. That does not make Gwion trustworthy – he’ll outright lie anytime the occasion calls for it…but when he tells the truth, it is the full, uncensored truth as he knows it. Biography: Gwion never knew either of his true parents, and was discovered abandoned by a Lord and his wife, who had lost their first child died years before. It filled an emptiness for them, even though, as a foster child, Gwion would not be a viable for lordship. The lad was strong, and never did illness touch him. Even so, he spent much time indoors. Assisted by a tutor who taught him to read, Gwion spent much time in the library, pouring over the tomes. Cartography, alchemy, animal anatomy, business, and strategy were all overshadowed by the tales of the gods and the adventures of heroes. In the forests nearby, he may read of a frightful Bean Si. Or perhaps there was a mystery under the bridge waiting to be found. Oftentimes, he would sneak around the buildings, pretending that the cooks were some intelligent monster he would have to sneak by. Despite being caught, he was not allowed to be punished, and so was for the most part free to be roguish. Many a time, Gwion saw foreigners enter, and using a quick charm, would befriend and learn from them. Basic fighting and archery from the knights, basic craftsmanship from the traders, and most importantly, he learned to play music from the bards. Though some instruments, like the harp and drum, fascinated him, he stuck to the flute and the lute. Oftentimes afterwards one could hear amateur music float around the halls. Upon reaching his early teens, Gwion’s studies were more focused. A noble needed to know certain things, among them how to defend himself and his underlings. As he was not built for direct battle, training focused on strategy, archery, and parrying skills. During this time, Gwion spent time with his foster-father. He was a strong warrior and always jolly around children. His mother, on the other hand, was a relief from the stricture, and a mind that challenged Gwion. From her, he learned keen speech and horsemanship. Over the years, his mind became sharp as well as a creative. As for the servant’s children, Gwion learned to love showing them things, and would defend his little party when anyone tried to punish them. In turn, when he was ill, the children would help with pans for vomit or cloth for the nose. During his mid-teens, a decent age to be looking forward to marriage and other things, relationships went foul with a neighboring lord. While hosting a celebration, a sadistic bigot of a knight maimed the horses and broke the swords of Lord Malgo, who in turn left with words of war. Gwion was sent to be an ambassador, accompanied by a small group of knights. Upon being received, Malgo had the guards slain, and Gwion tortured. Gwion saved his own life by fabricating stories in favor of Malgo, and was thus kept prisoner for a time. He hated the lies, but feared the pain more. Hatred grew for the lord, Gwion needed to live and escape. He developed a relationship with a nearby prisoner, a female prostitute, though they were poorly matched. Perhaps that was why they were attracted to one another, perhaps it was because of their close quarters, or perhaps they were using one another. She taught him how to seduce others in exchange for his stories. She spoke of Redguard, and an illicit affair with a prince, Morcant. The guard would constantly heckle her, to which she responded hostilely. After a few bashed in faces and broken noses, she was moved to a cell, rather than behind bars. A year in his imprisonment, the guard was low one night, and the jailor was deep in his cups. Gwion fashioned his clothing into a rough dress, styled his grown hair as the prostitute, and proceeded to call the drunk guard over. Through a lengthy number of words, seductive poses, and a knockout blow, Gwion was able to free himself, leaving the man passed out on the floor. Rapidly, the young noble slipped through the buildings, and flew into the woods. Running further, he encountered visions of a beautiful elven maiden, robed in red, purple, and black. They faded as smoke rose in the distance. Dying fires rose over the buildings that outlined his home. Ruin after ruin laid upon the besieged land. As Gwion sneaked towards his home, he saw stakes with the head of his foster father. To the side, he then spotted one of the younger servants, a child and friend, was on the ground, gasping as blood spurted out from a shaft in her chest. With fevered eyes, she held out two jewels, those of his foster-grandfather’s, and his foster-mother’s bronze necklace. He tried to save her, but little could be done for such a deep wound. Shouts rang outside, alerting men to his presence. Crying a silent oath over the girl, he took the jewels, and ran. Deep into the forest he ran, dogged by men all around, until Gwion tripped over a pair of roots, and fell, knocking himself out. In a sort of dreamlike haze, the elfin appeared before him. Cyrridven, keeper of the Cauldron Awenydd, truly did reside in the forests, and had come across the young, weak man. The men would be chopping the forest soon to replenish their tools of war, and she required someone to watch her cauldron whilst she found a new forest. So, she promised Gwion three drops of her cauldron’s power, granting the ability to escape his imminent danger, in return for him guarding it three nights. Groggily, the young man agreed, and so for 3 nights he stirred, hid, and guarded the cauldron. Eventually, the fae returned, and as promised, offered the power of the cauldron. Gwion had to first spill three drops of his blood into the magic basin, signing the contract. When it came time to imbibe the three droplets, however, a tired Gwion miscounted and took in more. Enraged, the fae enchantress took on a fell appearance and charged at the youth. Frightened, the new magic within Gwion triggered, and he became a wren, fleeing both fae and man from the lands of Rhegend. On that journey, she dogged him – aa a Cat-Sith his flight, Cu-Sith in his run, and only stopped when he was human again. Frightened by this chased, Gwion fled further as a human to the lands of Rhegend, losing the fey. There, he saw the prostitute again, in truth a spy for her prince and master saboteur. Through her recommendation, and his former noble status, Prince Morcant took “pity” on the now landless noble, and offered to be Gwion’s benefactor…for a price. Gwion was ill many months, and gave away some of his family jewels in the hope of help. However, the clergy saw “a shadow” making him ill, and the medicinal men remained perplexed. So, Gwion just worked to get use to this stomach-churning, bowel-stabbing pain. He regained his youthful strength somewhat, and served Morcant’s missions. Gwion waited years before using his ability again, terrified of the fey he tricked, however he was forced to use his magic to escape during a mission. Over years, Gwion learned more of stealth and methods to disable and kill other targets. He turned old books of alchemy into tools for poisons. With his temporary forms, he could sneak to areas no human could, to spy and kill. Archery went from well-trained to masterful skill, with some earlier trajectory assisting in killing targets behind walls or in hidden archways. Gradually, Gwion built a nickname, “Morfran,” or Black Crow, and acquired unique tools for his new trade. He has quietly killed over two dozen targets, from rallying rebels to high nobles, and with each his scorn has grown. What was a “saving” from the prince became more of a form of slavery to him, though he was provided unrestricted access to the princes library. Gwion leapt at the chance to go, undersupplied, in the name of the kingdom of Sorhaute to meet with a varied group of others on a quest. Curiously also, in Gwion's travels, he has come across these strange runes. He keeps them recorded in the hopes of one day finding out what they mean. Personality: Gwion is a young cynic, and holds most people in contempt at best. On the road, he will often sing of old battles and sorcerous places. Around others, he is silent and attentive, listening for useful rumors. He is a witty banterer, if crushing in his indecent knowledge of an opponent, and leaves most at a loss for words. He puts forth a mask of sensuality and control, However, this mask falls when he is given the opportunity to relay the tales of old, to share his knowledge. Then, eyes shine and he permits himself to laugh. He warms up to such people, like an instructor to their favored pupil. To them, even if he winds up killing them later, he shows patience and an almost forgotten kindness. I have been a multitude of shapes, Before I assumed a consistent form. I have been a sword, narrow, variegated, I have been a tear in the air, I have been in the dullest of stars. I have been a word among letters, I have been a book in the origin. Salone Ylnjor Magnusson, Swordbiter Ethnicity: French Allegiance: Sigurd the Dragonslayer Profession: Ambassador of the Norse, Translator Age: 32 Height: 5'11" Weight: 236 pounds Appearance: Ylnjor is a stout man. Built of muscle and experience, his body is honed for combat and a life of work. Being well fed and well trained has sculpted him. Dark brunette hair flows unkempt from his scalp, and a large beard hangs low enough to reach the center of his chest. Part of the ridge of his beard dips low on both sides, making accommodations for a set of nasty long scars where his mouth was ran through with a sword. Above the cheekbones, his pale skin is adorned with dark red tattoos that impersonate the smearing of blood. Dark brown eyes stare from the tattoos, permanently affixed with fury. He wears a thick cloak of skins to protect him from the elements, as well as as chainmail to protect from 'anything else'. He is clothed in drab browns and greys, and several belts and straps adorn his person. Two longswords drape across his back, and daggers clink at his waist. A Mammen Axe hangs on a belt loop on his left, in easy range for him to access. He stands with a slight predatory hunch, As if leaning in closer to his prey. A scale mail shoulder has been woven over his riding cloak and adorned with hide, to offer some slight protection and denote some standing of importance. Skill-at-Arms: 4. Several years of raids and battles has produced a resourceful and skilled combat veteran, highly proficient in axe and sword. Wisdom: 2. Kidnapped at a young age, Ylnjor's forcuses were forced in to physical prowess instead of scholarly knowledge. Magic: 1. While he knows of magic, he cannot comprehend its power or how it may be done. It is essentially "Wizard's stuff", and to him might distract one from more honest pursuits. Vitality: 5. Ylnjor's body is as tough as they come. He is blessed with a quick recovery from the few maladies that he has experienced, and his prime physique allows him to take untold punishment. Wealth: 4. Ransacking his former estate of its riches has left him with definite wealth. His pursuit of glory over luxury has allowed him to keep it. Other Notable Attributes: Ylnjor can speak both French and Norse. Speaks with a slow, purposeful tone as he has to over enunciate due to injuries sustained during combat. Possessions: Two Frankish longswords, one Mammen Axe, several small daggers, one chainmail outfit, several plain outfits of furs, leathers and hides. One donkey (Named Atgeir). Relationships: Lord Sabatiere Jean Laucroix (Father, killed), Lady Rocinante Laucroix (Mother, killed), Gunnar Magnus (Adoptive father, kidnapper, raider) Social Rank: Norse Ambassador to Charlemagne Honor: Ylnjor's reputation among his people means everything to him. He upholds the Norse way of life to the best of his ability. If he is to murder someone, they will have an opportunity to defend themselves. Ylnjor will keep his word, although his word is seldom given. However, all sense of honor evaporates for anyone who has wronged him or deceived him, and are easily marked for death. Biography: The man now known as Ylnjor Magnusson was born to the minor nobles Lord Sabatiere Jean Laucroix and Lady Rocinante Laucroix. His early years were passed in relative normalcy for a young nobleman. However, at the age of eight his life took an unexpected turn. While learning horseback riding away from the estate, his party was set upon by Viking raiders. The raiders slew the entire group and kidnapping the child, deciding that he may have use to them. Lord Laucroix was sent a letter of ransom for his son not long after. However as the weeks went by, it became clear that he never intended to pay the price on his son's head. Left with a child they never intended to keep, the raiders were perplexed. One decided to keep the child and raise it as his own. Adopting him in to their society, he was given a new name: Ylnjor Magnusson. The child had a difficult time adjusting to the hardships and fierce environment of the Norse lands. Once he did however, he embraced it. These people cared more for him than his parents ever had. He learned to fight, to subsist, to raid and bring wealth and glory to his adopted homeland. Throughout the years he participated in countless raids across the land, until one such tour brought him back to his original home. Ylnjor personally led the attack on his old estate. During the raid he met face to face with his former father. Confronting him, Ylnjor demanded answers as to why he was abandoned. Lord Laucroix used this time as a diversion, and attacked Ylnjor. Laucroix drove his sword through his son's face, piercing both cheeks with his blade and slicing his tongue. Ylnjor was able to overcome the attack and slay Lord Laucroix, but the encounter left him with permanent scars upon his cheeks and slurring of his speech. His wounds inspired the nickname 'Swordbiter,' which continued to follow him as he rose in prominence among the Vikings. He has felt a wedge driven between him and his homeland however, as Sigurd and Charlemagne seek an alliance between their people against a common enemy. Ylnjor has been selected as ambassador to Charlemagne's Court, a choice he sees as an insult. The humor of someone who has slaughtered former countrymen being selected as an emissary is not lost on him, but he feels he has been denied his right as a Viking to Valhalla. Robbed of his chance to die on the battlefield, he sees wasting away in the court of soft men to be a precursor to what awaits him behind Hel's gates. The position has left him angry and bitter, and at times seething with rage that is barely masked by proper wording. He hopes that Sigurd and Charlemagne will soon come to an agreement so he may return to where he believes he is needed most, and end the feeling that Sigurd, like Lord Lacroix, has abandoned him to an uncertain fate. Personality: Ylnjor is brash and bitter. He speaks in odd idioms and analogies meshed between his two cultures. His comedy consists of gallows humor and he is quick to see the negative in things. He is easily offended and jumps at the chance to defend his reputation and bravado. He finds the wealth and luxuriousness that surrounds him to be a gold-lined cage built to rob him of his durability. He comes off incredibly gruff in conversation and would rather brandish an axe than debate 'pointless gossip' between lands 'like women by the pantry'. In unseen irony, his stubbornness and absolute unwillingness to compromise in what he (and what he thinks Sigurd) wants is his biggest hurdle in the relations between Charlemagne and his people. Quiet Man Cometh Name: Mistral Chastain Ethnicity: French Allegiance: The Holy-Emperor Charlemagne Profession: Hedge Knight Age: 32 Height: 5'4 Weight: 154 lbs Appearance: Mistral has the look of someone noble born, finely featured and with naturally pale skin, but it is often rough or tanned from travelling on the road and working on her equipment. Her hair is a light chestnut like many in her family and her eyes are dark green and wide. Her armour is well kept but nothing particularly unique. She wears heavy fabric skirting around her hips and legs as extra protection for her legs, which are not as heavily armour to allow her flexibility to mount and ride her horse with less trouble. Skill-at-Arms: 4. Mistral learned the bulk of her fighting skills from formal training. Her practical experiences with combat are focused on small skirmishes and one on one battles she has encountered in her wanderings since gaining her knighthood. Wisdom: 3. Mistral was given a basic education as a child in her home, focused on literature and domestic arts, in preparation to marry. In her knight training she learned horsemanship, etiquette, peerage and heraldry, and basic knowledge of laws and customs. Magic: 3. In exchange for the enchantment on her blade, Mistral must follow the rules set by Gadriel, which include never attacking an innocent or an unarmed opponent and never using the blade frivolously, such as in a bar brawl. Vitality: 4. Mistral is very hardy, which serves her well with the time she spends out of doors and sleeping wherever she can find suitable ground. Wealth: 2. Typically has only enough at any given time to feed herself and her horse and maintain the minimum of supplies needed to ensure the upkeep of her gear. Other Notable Attributes: speaks and reads French and English. Possessions: Vaillance (longsword enchanted by Gadriel), plate armour in French style with close helmet, Claude (dapple grey heavy horse), high backed saddle, face plate and leather protective barding for his chest, rondel, crossbow and quarrels, horseman's mace, items for basic armour/weapon upkeep (oils, whetstone, leather strips...), heavy bedroll, travel food (dried meats and fruits, nuts, bread if not far from a city or town). Relationships: Lady Mary Chastain (mother, English). Seigneur Jean-Luc Chastain (father, French). Marie, Sophie and Michelle (twins), Pascale (sisters). Guillame de Marechal (knight and mentor). Social Rank: Knighted. Landless. Honor: Devout Christian, and holds the code of Chivalry equally high. Always tries to do right by people she meets, but is not afraid to meet violence with violence, especially if she feel's she's justified. Biography: An active imagination, and indulgent father, and too many older sisters to marry off meant that Mistral grew up with more freedom than one would expect for a noble daughter, after she made it clear she was more interested in climbing trees and sparing with sticks than learning to be a housewife. Allowing her to act as she would also helped to silence the complaints from her tutors who were just as happy to let her be and focus on turning her sisters into ideal young women. As a young girl, Mistral was always enamored of knights and swordplay, begging to go to tournaments and sneaking away to watch groups of passing knights and their squires. Months of hinting, arguing, debate, and straight out insistence finally wore her father down enough that he would allow her to attend an academy for knightly training, provided she could find one that would accept her. Whether her father intended her to or not, Mistral found herself in training at a school run by the famed English knight Guillame de Marechal. Sir Guillame’s favour spared Mistral from harsh bullying by the other squires, but even so, as the only girl present, Mistral ended up on the receiving end of insults and bruises more often than not. As determined as the next individual, perhaps more so, Mistral persevered. Mistral has removed herself from succession in her family line, and so only has a fraction of the wealth she was born with. She spends nearly all of it maintaining her gear, horse, and health, sleeping outside or in a thoughtful person’s stable in order to save what money she has. Since gaining her knighthood, Mistral has been wandering the country regions of France, sometimes acting as escort of bodyguard as needed or requested, sometimes defending the peasantry from brigands other landless knights. As such, her combat experience is highest in smaller skirmishes or one on one combat. Her only large scale battle experience to date was at Crecy, helping to repel the invading English. It was not a battle she rightly should have survived, but if she were asked, she would say that a friend of God must have been preserving her. Just for what reason, she has yet to decide. Personality: Mistral’s definitive trait is the diehard determination that saw her through training to become a knight. Somewhat idealistic from the romanticized views of knights that she held as a child, she still insists on remaining optimistic even when faced with the harsh realities of the world. Gallagher Kier Bodhar (formerly mac Alasdair) Ethnicity: Scottish Allegiance: The Holy-Emperor Charlemagne Profession: Varlet Age: 24 Height: 6’ Weight: 178lbs Appearance: Though built thickly, Kier has little muscle to speak of and a soft, rounded face. His skin is darker than that of most of his family, but easily freckled all the same. That is, except where it’s covered by patches of albino skin. One of these spots is on the right side of his face, including his entire eye and following down along his jaw. The eye on this side is a pale gray-ish pink, while the left is teal. Other spots are along the right side of his ribs, the back of his left hand, from his left heel halfway up the back of his shin, most of his skull down along the length of his spine, and one other that goes unseen and unmentioned. Wherever these spots are, his hair is white-blond. Everywhere else, it’s a bright red. Skill-at-Arms: 2 – While he’s never looked for fights, he’s had to defend himself in the past. Amélie has helped teach him basic techniques, but most he can’t get the hang of. Wisdom: 4 – Much of his free time growing up was spent learning skills from those around him. Instead of a formal education or writings to learn from, he had ample time, hands ready to be used, and adults kind enough to let him watch or assist with their work. He’d never master how to bake the perfect pie, flawlessly repair clothing, or carve a bowl that wasn’t lopsided, but he could always make the most of what he had. Magic: 4 – In exchange for half of his sight, he was given control of the water element, limited only by his imagination and the practice he puts into it. He has plenty of the former, but the latter he has neglected severely, only making use of a couple practical skills. Vitality: 4 – Besides the tendency for his lighter patches of skin to burn in the sun, Kier has never had any particularly serious illnesses or injuries. Wealth: 2 – After his own supplies and any that Amélie neglects, anything he has left is saved for whatever toy or trinket happens to catch his eye. Other Notable Attributes: Speaks Gaelic, English, and French. Can read and write basic Gaelic, a bit of French, and even less Latin. Possessions: Travel and campaign gear and provisions Relationships: Alasdar mac Neill (father), Maire inghean Einri (mother), Caitilin inghean Alasdair (sister), Dame Amélie Sans-Dieu de la Roche-Blanche (varlet to), Bo (best friend) Social Rank: Commoner, Landless Honor: Kier considers himself a Christian, but he’s never been devout. He seeks to do as much good as he can, and isn’t prone to either anger or violence, despite his efforts to help in the war. Above all, he thinks that people should try to find their own answers instead of following blindly and make the most of their lives. Biography: Kier was the second child to Alasdar and Maire, and their last. From the very first moments of his life, it was obvious that there was something wrong with him. In less than an hour of time outside, the spots on his skin would burn horribly, and even looking out when the sun was bright would hurt his eyes. While his mother embraced it all as a sign that the boy was closer to God, his father, and the rest of his family, thought otherwise. Alasdar remained as close to Caitilin as he ever was, but never bonded with his son, and grew distant from the woman that had birthed such a sin. With a temper and impulsive nature all her own, once she’d had enough neglect, Maire took her children, supplies, and their savings and left their home in the Scottish Highlands. The three stopped in several villages between there and Lowlands, Maire taking what temporary work she could to make sure they could get by, but often needing to barter with what few trinkets they had. This left the children to either run around on their own, with Caitilin looking after Kier, or under the care of whichever villagers their mother happened to make friends with. Eventually, Caitilin was old enough to help the small family earn their wages, allowing their mother to take them farther from their home. They went from Scotland to England, then from there across the waters to France just before the death of Arthur, never truly settling until Kier was well into his teens. Late one summer, while exploring just outside of the town, Kier stumbled upon a faery. Though he’d often dreamt of what he would do if the chance arrived, once it had, he didn’t have a clue what he could ask for. The faery sent him on his way, uninterested in its time being wasted, but invited the odd young man to return the next year. The months passed, and Kier heard more and more stories of the war. He grew a desire to help defend the lands, like the great knights were fighting so hard to do, despite being so obviously unfit for battle. He began preparations to head to a castle and find someone that would train him. For weeks, he would head out before dusk to search for the faery, certain now of what his purpose in life must be, and what he would ask of it. It was a cool afternoon, just a few days before his planned departure from the town, that he met the faery again. The two talked for hours until it was decided that in exchange for all sight in his right eye, he would be given control over part of nature. Just what this meant, the faery refused to say without Kier paying a higher price, but he accepted the deal all the same. After all, any magic was bound to help him reach his goal. In the years that followed, Kier made his way South to Avignon. He never had a chance of being the warrior he’d wanted to be, but was granted work under a knight. Personality: Always having to keep his limits in mind since childhood, he tries to hold himself back and keep his head low, but his impulsive nature gets the better of him. He’ll get attached to people easily and do what he can to make them happy and at ease, or at least what he assumes will do the trick, rarely asking if his assumptions are correct beforehand. He can be stubborn even over minor things, and rebel just for the sake of rebelling. While optimistic by nature, Kier is prone to mood swings and will either pretend to keep his hopes up, or wallow in his misery until something (usually insignificant) snaps him out of it. Above all, he wants to do something worthwhile with his life, even if people never think he is worth anything. He struggles to accept himself and is quick to react when he believes rejection is imminent. Espy Name: Yvon Bellamy Ethnicity: French Allegiance: The Holy-Emperor Charlemagne Profession: Falconer Age: 30 Height: 5'7" Weight: 140 lbs Appearance: Yvon isn’t built like his brothers – thick-boned and lean, like their father. Instead, he had the misfortune of inheriting his mother’s light frame. In fact, he is the opposite of his two siblings: perhaps his most striking trait is the general darkness. He has a fairly dark complexion, thanks to the Arab blood running through his father’s line, and long black hair that he rarely bothers to properly comb through, at times rendering it an unconquerable tangled mess. Tying it back seems to have helped somewhat. His eyes lie in stark contrast to the rest of him – they are a piercing light blue from his mother, fitting perfectly with the blue robe he usually wears over brown and black clothes and a shirt of mail. Tucked away in his belt loop is a bearded axe, the close-range companion to the crossbow slung over his shoulder. He wears a rondel dagger hidden under metal plating on his hip as a last resort, and from elbow down, his left arm is sheathed in a tarnished gauntlet that has seen better days. Beneath lies an arm only human in shape – under the skin, if one could call it such, discolored as it is, it seems as though serpentine forms writhe over each other in place of the normal capillaries and muscles. This demonic coloration spreads up from his fingertips to his shoulder, and still slowly creeps up bit by tiny bit. Skill-at-Arms: 3 – Yvon fought as a conscripted soldier for a few years, until the age of 19, when it was believed that he had died along with the rest of his companions in an ambush by a band of thieves. He is capable of wielding swords, lighter axes, and warhammers, in addition to being a decent shot with a crossbow. Wisdom: 3 – Having no interest in playing with his older brothers, Yvon instead devoted his time to reading (mostly picture-) books, climbing trees, and asking (in his parents’ eyes) too many questions. At the same time, he despised what he deemed to be the “boring” subjects like mathematics and grammar. Big words are not his forte. Magic: 4 – The powers granted to him by the demon’s contract allow him to form armor of even weaponry out of congealed and hardened blood, whether it be his own or another’s, at great cost. This usually is put into practice in strengthening his gauntleted arm to serve as a shield, but when Yvon isn’t worried about being seen by others, he is also able to shape the blood into rather macabre blades and useful objects. Hardening and keeping the blood solid over long periods of time is difficult, and the gauntlet’s “support” usually draws from his own supply. Vitality: 3 – Yvon was not the strongest person even back during his career as a soldier, and with the demon’s powers affecting him, he appears rather ill and pallid after he exerts himself. Since his power is based on blood, Yvon has anemic spells if he refuses to take lives. Wealth: 3 – Working as a falconer under a nobleman has netted him enough funds to live a decent life and buy most of the equipment and clothing he wants, and nothing particularly luxurious. Neither does he care about luxuries. Other Notable Attributes: Speaks French and can read very little of it. (Please do not ask him to read a map.) Knows basic injury treatment on account of his conscription. Possessions: Bearded axe with leather grip, crossbow, rondel dagger shirt of mail, mail coif (usually resting on his shoulders, hooded robe plated with metal in certain areas, medicinal pouch, cloth rucksack with a couple tattered what-used-to-be-books, basic travel provisions. Relationships: Nobleman, both employer and landlord. Social Rank: Commoner, owns a 10-acre strip of land on which he practices falconry and hunting. Honor: Born into a Christian family, but he is not particularly pious in his daily routines. Yvon would rather not kill, but has few qualms about taking the lives of his enemies. His sacrifice of what little life his companions had has made a deep mental scar, and he is hesitant to kill innocents (and refuses to harm children), even at the cost of his own well-being. Biography: (Your character's personal history and their part in these events) Finally, if anyone has ideas for other elements to add to the setting, I'm all ears. And of course, any questions about the setting or for character creation are completely welcome. :) Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion between supposed lovers. Between supposed brothers.
		Posted 01-31-2014, 02:18 AM

		#2	Suzerain of Sheol Desolation Denizen
Okay, rules for character capabilities. We have 5 primary areas of focus: Skill-at-Arms, Wisdom, Magic, Vitality, and Wealth. You get 16 points, to increase them each from 1 to 5. You have to put at least 1 into each. You'll have opportunities to raise them higher as we play, but bear in mind that anything over 5 (5 to 10) is a bigger increase than 1 to 5. The tiers are as follows: Skill-at-Arms 1- Inept as a fighter. The character has never been in a serious fight in their life. 2- Untrained, but either naturally fierce or the product of a violent life. 3- A soldier. Possesses basic training and knows how to handle themselves in a fight. 4- A veteran. Has fought in wars and come back to tell the tale. 5- A fully-trained knight. Schooled in the art of war since birth, a finely-tuned killing machine. Wisdom 1- Illiterate. Provincial. Barely knows who their monarch is. 2- Functional in society. Still possibly illiterate. 3- Basic education, but no particular areas of focus. 4- A scholar. Broad base of knowledge, specialized in one or two fields. 5- A Renaissance Man. To those of lesser intellect, they seem to know everything. They possibly do. Magic (this covers both magic ability for those who make pacts, and resistance to magic. If it's particularly high for a non-mage, an RP explanation is probably required.) 1- Inept at magic, effects never work properly or don't work at all. No resistance. 2- Able to produce magic as described by the bargain, but nothing very impressive. Starting a campfire, perhaps, but no burning men alive. Slight resistance to magic, of little consequence. 3- Good enough at magic to be known for it. Burning men alive is possible here, but only with effort. No outstanding effects. Decent resistance to magic. 4- A true talent. Can use their granted powers in creative and powerful ways. Able to shrug off spells from lesser casters. 5- A trained wizard. Able to use even the smallest of sorceries to great effect. Only fellow wizards can threaten them with magic. Vitality 1- Frail. Sickly. Probably should not be adventuring. 2- Out of shape. Susceptible to illness. 3- Average, reasonably healthy. Battle wounds are not necessarily life-threatening. 4- Robust. Rarely gets sick. Recovers quickly from wounds. 5- Mighty. Almost immune to common maladies. Can take tremendous wounds and keep fighting. Wealth 1- Impoverished. Either homeless or indentured. 2- Able to feed oneself, but little else. 3- Can support a family. Can afford equipment and the occasional luxury. 4- Wealthy. Can afford to purchase finely-crafted equipment or employ servants and bodyguards regularly. 5- Rich. A landowner or noble, can afford almost any single purchase. Likely owns a manse or even a castle. Likely employs many servants and retainers, and even a personal army. Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion between supposed lovers. Between supposed brothers.
	Posted 01-31-2014, 05:34 AM

Suzerain of Sheol Desolation Denizen			#3
	Dame Amélie Sans-Dieu de la Roche-Blanche Ethnicity: French Allegiance: The Holy-Emperor Charlemagne Profession: Knight Age: 34 Height: 5'9” Weight: 183 lbs Appearance: Powerfully muscled, her body has been conditioned by over a decade of life on the road and at war. A blow from a sword-hilt broke her nose in her youth and it shows; she has a deep scar running from the right corner of her mouth to her jawline. Hair is brown and close-cropped, eyes dusty brown and small. Her posture betrays her lacking sense of self-worth. She wears a jack-of-plates covered in lacquered leather painted deep crimson, along with a full mail harness and hosen. She carries a heavy round-shield of Norman design, an arming sword, and a short lance that doubles as a spear in close quarters. Skill-at-Arms: 5 (A decorated knight, she has fought in several battles across the countryside of France, participated in (and ranked highly) in many tourneys. She is, frankly, very good at killing people, which does little to ease her doubts about her soul's fate) Wisdom: 3 (Taught to read and write as per her tutelage in the convent, schooled in the manners of court though she rarely attends when she can help it. Has studied the Scriptures in some detail.) Magic: 1 (Despite her sincerest prayers, she cannot make contact with an angel willing to bless her, she does not understand and is supremely jealous of others who can work magic.) Vitality: 4 (Well-fed through her youth, trained in the rigors of knighthood, well-used to traveling, she is exceptionally hardy and has thus far managed to avoid any serious injuries in battle.) Wealth: 3 (She owns nothing but her equipment and horse, but she does not scruple to outfit herself with the best armor and weapons she can afford. She rarely goes hungry, and often gives to the poor after her other expenses are taken care of) Other Notable Attributes: Was taught sewing, gardening, and singing in the convent, though she isn't particularly good at any of them. Working knowledge of equipment maintenance, horse-care, and the treatment of battlefield injuries. She is fluent in French, Latin, and Arabic. Possessions: Destrier and barding, Jack-of-plates armor, Chainmail harness and cuisses, Arming Sword, Short Lance, Rondel dagger, Aventail helm with vizard, leather mantle, leather boots, plate gauntlets and greaves Relationships: Phillipe (older brother, deceased), Alain (younger brother, monk), Lady Marguerite de la Roche-Blanche (mother, deceased), Lord Robere de la Roche-Blanche (father, vassal of Charlemagne), Sir Diodore de Saint-Pierre (her commander in the Knights-Errant), Dame Bradamante (her mentor at court and the knight she looks up to the most) Social Rank: Noble, Knighted, Landless Honor: An adherent to Christian ascetic principles when she can manage them, but her vows often prove too difficult for her to maintain. Likewise she is devoted to the code of Chivalry, and strives to act honorably in all things, but her temper often gets the better of her and she resorts to violence more easily than she is comfortable with. Biography: She was born to the Lord and Lady de la Roche-Blanche, a prized vassal-house of the Emperor. She was extremely close with her brother Phillipe as a child, and yearned to follow his path into knighthood, but her father forbade it. At the age of 12, she convinced herself that she heard the calling of God and chose to join the Sisters of the Blessed Mary rather than accept a marriage to one of her father's allies. Word of her mother's death giving birth to her younger brother Alain reached her in the convent. The boy survived, though she did not meet him for many years later. Every now and then, Phillipe would visit her, and she longed to leave to live with him in court, but he would not allow it out of honor for their father. When Phillipe was slain on campaign against the Saracens, Amélie was devastated. At the age of 15 she left the convent and went to see her father, declaring her intent to join the Poor Knights of Charlemagne's court. So broken by the loss of his son and wife, the aging man allowed her to go, and they have spoken only rarely since. Amélie's time as a knight-apprentice was difficult, she felt herself clumsy and unskilled to the other more-experienced squires, but out of sheer diligence and lack of anything else to do with her life, she persevered and trained tirelessly for well on 6 years until she was finally granted leave to accompany her master to war. Proving herself in battle – she had become quite skilled by this point – she was shortly thereafter knighted and placed under the command of Sir Diodore de Saint-Pierre, charged to go forth as a Knight-Errant and right what wrongs she could throughout the empire. So began her life as a knight, and though it brought her peace and fulfillment to bring aid to the weak, it was a lonesome existence, passing through towns and cities, rarely finding friends in those she lent her strength. Later came wars in the east, fighting the same heathens who had murdered her brother, and she won great glory there. Yet one by one her comrades-in-arms died around her until the Crusade was finally given up as lost and she returned with the French armies in defeat. Afterward, she took up a more permanent residence in the Emperor's Court at Avignon, though she ever refused grants of land and titles of her own, preferring the life of soldiering. Here she met the Lady Bradamante, a Paladin of legendary deeds. They became fast friends and swore oaths of alliance. She remains Amélie's only true companion, though Bradamante is often carried away on great quests with the other Paladins. Amélie yearns to one day be esteemed enough to accompany her. Through all her travels, Amélie has struggled with her faith in God and the church. The life of violence she has chosen conflicts with the gentle teachings of Christ, and she fears for her own soul for the blood she has shed. Even in the Holy Land, she found not renewed faith in God but only horror and carnage. She prays nightly for the deliverance of angels, but her prayers are denied, only further reinforcing her doubt in herself. In her heart, Amélie fears that she is an evil person, for all the good she might wish to do. With the coming of the Living Saint, Jeanne d'Arc, Amélie saw in truth what it was she longed for, the blessing of Heavenly powers, knowledge and assurance in her soul that she is good, worthy. She has not found it. She looks to Jeanne with awe bordering on worship, amazed at the depth of the girl's piety, but at the same time, she resents her, and hates herself for feeling such jealously of one so holy. So far, she has been unable to work up the courage even to speak to Jeanne, if only to seek her blessing. Personality: Amélie is reserved among strangers, feeling herself inferior to others and often uncomfortable even engaging in conversation despite her courage on the battlefield. When she does join conversations, she is blunt and forthright, clumsy in her speech despite her refined upbringing. She is reluctant to discuss religion out of her own misgivings. While she is at ease around other warriors, she cannot help feeling that it is a path that leads her away from God despite that it is the path she has chosen to walk. She is a loyal comrade, willing to risk her life for her allies and the defenseless. She tries to do good whenever she can, to make up for all the evil she feels she has done, but she knows where her talents lie. The best she can do is try to turn her sword upon the wicked and hope that God's judgment is merciful. Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion between supposed lovers. Between supposed brothers.
		Posted 02-01-2014, 03:26 AM

		#4	Lawtan Dragon Storm
Name: Gwion “Morfran” ab Arnallt Ethnicity: Welsh Allegiance: Sorhaute Profession: Bard/Assassin Age: 29 Height: 5'10” Weight: 146 lbs Appearance: Gwion has a lanky and thoroughly calloused body, worn to survival beyond normal for his years. His build is akin to a mishmash of junk – strongly built arms surrounding a twig of a chest, followed down by thicker thighs…and tapering out at miniscule feet. Though the body appears ungainly, he is incredibly quick and fluid. His face is likely the only charming part about him – somewhat chiseled with a dark blond stubble. His emerald eyes are bright and captivating, and a frill of flicked blond hair hangs over his head unceremoniously. He holds a constant, if subtle, smirk, like some lord looking forward to the next hunt. Though seemingly odd at first, somewhat like a deformed beggar, closer examination would show the buildup of muscles built for evasion and indicating the strength of an accomplished archer. Even closer, metal ornaments only known to nobles shine under his hair and clothing. Gwion in battle covers his common clothes with a Jack-of-Plate vest and a bevor of articulated lames coming up around his neck, covering his smirk. Mail arms are attached to the vest, and hardened oiled leather cuisses are strapped to his legs. Skill-at-Arms: 4 – He is a superb marksman, able to hit a running fox upon horseback at a distance of 100 yards and knows a form of sword fighting similar to that of the Italians, parrying to the benefit of his swordbreaker. However, in a war or battle, his skills are misplaced and would serve as clumsy. He is a grand horserider, perhaps due to his ability to shift into similar four-legged beasts. Wisdom: 5 – As a child, Gwion poured over endless books about the mystical lands around. He learned the trade of minstrels playing for the court of Ceredigion, becoming skilled with the flute and lute, and listened to tacticians calculate the trajectory of ballistae. As an assassin and a bard, his bread relies on him furthering such knowledge. Magic: 3 – Due to a pact with the Danann lady-fae, Cyrridven, sealed in blood over a cauldron, Gwion can shift into any beast less than or equal to his mass, limited by his health and anatomical knowledge, retaining his intelligence. He can communicate with ones he animals has been, however, he is cursed with perpetual illness. He has some lingering fear of the fey-lass who’d love to devour him as a delicious wren or succulent Gwion salmon. Actual Mechanic: Max Animal Size/Weight = (Gwion Weight-Gear Weight)/Sickness (Sickness on a scale of 1-4, 4 being current puking state) Contract of the Cauldron Awenydd: I am Awenyyd, The magic of inspiration, To be gifted to those in need, ---- Bid those who lost sight, Give up their might, And those with face horrid, Sacrifice their hoard, I will grant upon either thee, An infinite voice of Beauty. ---- Bid thee fae-enmeshed, Give to me a gift of flesh, A hand, an eye, a leg, a head, Or perhaps serve my fae her bread, Seven years a servile steed, With that, you may be freed. ---- Bid thee who flees, And hides under bees, To in open stir my belly, And with three drops of jelly, Will lose health yet hide the best, In the shape of smaller beasts, ---- Thrice the blood spill in my chur, Thrice a night sit and stir, To sing in voice of pretty birds, To live free from Sith herds, To daily take two smaller shapes, And escape this Cauldron’s mouth agape, ---- Beware ye take of me, Only droplets three, Or fast the hare ye widely run, Over hill and under sun, Stronger strength your magic will have, If three nights you outrun the fey-lass. Vitality: 2 – Though well-trained, Gwion is supernaturally weaker than most around him. Between poor conditions that beset a contracted landless Noble, his sacrificed health, and the unsavory works he has dealt with, there is many a night where the bard purges his last meal. Wealth: 2 – Most of Gwion’s contracted money goes to pay off his gear, or ends up paying for his meager supplies. He ignores several needs for his gear. Most of the time, he steals or hunts and gathers for food, unable to afford much there. Perhaps if he sold the few trinkets…but they are all that is left of his family. Other Notable Attributes: Lorekeeper, knows apothecary poisons and antidotes, knows the basic anatomy of wrens, cats, mice and dogs, decent entertainer/minstrel, knows how to mend and repair his armor (how to sew), what food is edible, how to make a fire, and is a good animal trainer. He knows French, Gaelic, Latin, and Welsh. He can read Greek, and speak a pidgin form of Cornish. Possessions: Customized Jack-of-plates armor, with mail arms and a bevor face-guard. Hardened leather Cuisses, Vambraces, an Ear Dagger, a hatchet, flasks of oil and apothecary poisons, flint, two arrow bags of 24 arrows, a sword breaker (longsword style), a recurve yew longbow with a notched stabilizer, several meters of chord (rope), a bag of sand (for filtering), a lute, a reed wooden flute, a blank book, and a fishing knife, and a restiched rucksack. Relationships: Arnallt (foster-father, lord, deceased), Malgo (former Captor, deceased), Rhianna (foster-mother, MIA), Servant’s Children (deceased or lost) Cyrridven (Enchantress of the Tuatha De Danann, Fey), Drudwen(Prostitute,Assassin,First Lover) Prince Morcant (Benefactor in Sorhaute) Social Rank: Noble, Landless Honor: Gwion holds a philosophy of “the ends justify the means,” but restrains that on certain accounts. Firstly, he will not kill children, and will go to greater lengths to minimize the trauma of death in the event of his target having children. Secondly, Gwion believes strongly in telling accounts as truthfully as possible, despite most favoring stories that paint prettier pictures. That does not make Gwion trustworthy – he’ll outright lie anytime the occasion calls for it…but when he tells the truth, it is the full, uncensored truth as he knows it. Biography: Gwion never knew either of his true parents, and was discovered abandoned by a Lord and his wife, who had lost their first child died years before. It filled an emptiness for them, even though, as a foster child, Gwion would not be a viable for lordship. The lad was strong, and never did illness touch him. Even so, he spent much time indoors. Assisted by a tutor who taught him to read, Gwion spent much time in the library, pouring over the tomes. Cartography, alchemy, animal anatomy, business, and strategy were all overshadowed by the tales of the gods and the adventures of heroes. In the forests nearby, he may read of a frightful Bean Si. Or perhaps there was a mystery under the bridge waiting to be found. Oftentimes, he would sneak around the buildings, pretending that the cooks were some intelligent monster he would have to sneak by. Despite being caught, he was not allowed to be punished, and so was for the most part free to be roguish. Many a time, Gwion saw foreigners enter, and using a quick charm, would befriend and learn from them. Basic fighting and archery from the knights, basic craftsmanship from the traders, and most importantly, he learned to play music from the bards. Though some instruments, like the harp and drum, fascinated him, he stuck to the flute and the lute. Oftentimes afterwards one could hear amateur music float around the halls. Upon reaching his early teens, Gwion’s studies were more focused. A noble needed to know certain things, among them how to defend himself and his underlings. As he was not built for direct battle, training focused on strategy, archery, and parrying skills. During this time, Gwion spent time with his foster-father. He was a strong warrior and always jolly around children. His mother, on the other hand, was a relief from the stricture, and a mind that challenged Gwion. From her, he learned keen speech and horsemanship. Over the years, his mind became sharp as well as a creative. As for the servant’s children, Gwion learned to love showing them things, and would defend his little party when anyone tried to punish them. In turn, when he was ill, the children would help with pans for vomit or cloth for the nose. During his mid-teens, a decent age to be looking forward to marriage and other things, relationships went foul with a neighboring lord. While hosting a celebration, a sadistic bigot of a knight maimed the horses and broke the swords of Lord Malgo, who in turn left with words of war. Gwion was sent to be an ambassador, accompanied by a small group of knights. Upon being received, Malgo had the guards slain, and Gwion tortured. Gwion saved his own life by fabricating stories in favor of Malgo, and was thus kept prisoner for a time. He hated the lies, but feared the pain more. Hatred grew for the lord, Gwion needed to live and escape. He developed a relationship with a nearby prisoner, a female prostitute, though they were poorly matched. Perhaps that was why they were attracted to one another, perhaps it was because of their close quarters, or perhaps they were using one another. She taught him how to seduce others in exchange for his stories. She spoke of Redguard, and an illicit affair with a prince, Morcant. The guard would constantly heckle her, to which she responded hostilely. After a few bashed in faces and broken noses, she was moved to a cell, rather than behind bars. A year in his imprisonment, the guard was low one night, and the jailor was deep in his cups. Gwion fashioned his clothing into a rough dress, styled his grown hair as the prostitute, and proceeded to call the drunk guard over. Through a lengthy number of words, seductive poses, and a knockout blow, Gwion was able to free himself, leaving the man passed out on the floor. Rapidly, the young noble slipped through the buildings, and flew into the woods. Running further, he encountered visions of a beautiful elven maiden, robed in red, purple, and black. They faded as smoke rose in the distance. Dying fires rose over the buildings that outlined his home. Ruin after ruin laid upon the besieged land. As Gwion sneaked towards his home, he saw stakes with the head of his foster father. To the side, he then spotted one of the younger servants, a child and friend, was on the ground, gasping as blood spurted out from a shaft in her chest. With fevered eyes, she held out two jewels, those of his foster-grandfather’s, and his foster-mother’s bronze necklace. He tried to save her, but little could be done for such a deep wound. Shouts rang outside, alerting men to his presence. Crying a silent oath over the girl, he took the jewels, and ran. Deep into the forest he ran, dogged by men all around, until Gwion tripped over a pair of roots, and fell, knocking himself out. In a sort of dreamlike haze, the elfin appeared before him. Cyrridven, keeper of the Cauldron Awenydd, truly did reside in the forests, and had come across the young, weak man. The men would be chopping the forest soon to replenish their tools of war, and she required someone to watch her cauldron whilst she found a new forest. So, she promised Gwion three drops of her cauldron’s power, granting the ability to escape his imminent danger, in return for him guarding it three nights. Groggily, the young man agreed, and so for 3 nights he stirred, hid, and guarded the cauldron. Eventually, the fae returned, and as promised, offered the power of the cauldron. Gwion had to first spill three drops of his blood into the magic basin, signing the contract. When it came time to imbibe the three droplets, however, a tired Gwion miscounted and took in more. Enraged, the fae enchantress took on a fell appearance and charged at the youth. Frightened, the new magic within Gwion triggered, and he became a wren, fleeing both fae and man from the lands of Rhegend. On that journey, she dogged him – aa a Cat-Sith his flight, Cu-Sith in his run, and only stopped when he was human again. Frightened by this chased, Gwion fled further as a human to the lands of Rhegend, losing the fey. There, he saw the prostitute again, in truth a spy for her prince and master saboteur. Through her recommendation, and his former noble status, Prince Morcant took “pity” on the now landless noble, and offered to be Gwion’s benefactor…for a price. Gwion was ill many months, and gave away some of his family jewels in the hope of help. However, the clergy saw “a shadow” making him ill, and the medicinal men remained perplexed. So, Gwion just worked to get use to this stomach-churning, bowel-stabbing pain. He regained his youthful strength somewhat, and served Morcant’s missions. Gwion waited years before using his ability again, terrified of the fey he tricked, however he was forced to use his magic to escape during a mission. Over years, Gwion learned more of stealth and methods to disable and kill other targets. He turned old books of alchemy into tools for poisons. With his temporary forms, he could sneak to areas no human could, to spy and kill. Archery went from well-trained to masterful skill, with some earlier trajectory assisting in killing targets behind walls or in hidden archways. Gradually, Gwion built a nickname, “Morfran,” or Black Crow, and acquired unique tools for his new trade. He has quietly killed over two dozen targets, from rallying rebels to high nobles, and with each his scorn has grown. What was a “saving” from the prince became more of a form of slavery to him, though he was provided unrestricted access to the princes library. Gwion leapt at the chance to go, undersupplied, in the name of the kingdom of Sorhaute to meet with a varied group of others on a quest. Curiously also, in Gwion's travels, he has come across these strange runes. He keeps them recorded in the hopes of one day finding out what they mean. Personality: Gwion is a young cynic, and holds most people in contempt at best. On the road, he will often sing of old battles and sorcerous places. Around others, he is silent and attentive, listening for useful rumors. He is a witty banterer, if crushing in his indecent knowledge of an opponent, and leaves most at a loss for words. He puts forth a mask of sensuality and control, However, this mask falls when he is given the opportunity to relay the tales of old, to share his knowledge. Then, eyes shine and he permits himself to laugh. He warms up to such people, like an instructor to their favored pupil. To them, even if he winds up killing them later, he shows patience and an almost forgotten kindness. I have been a multitude of shapes, Before I assumed a consistent form. I have been a sword, narrow, variegated, I have been a tear in the air, I have been in the dullest of stars. I have been a word among letters, I have been a book in the origin. Last edited by Lawtan; 03-05-2014 at 01:14 AM.
	Posted 02-02-2014, 01:25 AM

Espy Wanderer			#5
	Just going to leave this here so I can edit it slowly when I have time. Name: Ethnicity: Allegiance: Profession: Age: 30 Height: 5'7" Weight: Appearance: Skill-at-Arms: 3 Wisdom: 3 Magic: 4 Vitality: 3 Wealth: 3 Other Notable Attributes: (Any other qualities about your character you feel notable) Possessions: (Items your character owns) Relationships: (NPCs your character knows) Social Rank: (Your character's position in society, and/or any military forces in their command) Honor: (Your character's personal moral code and how strictly they adhere to it) Biography: (Your character's personal history and their part in these events) STONEWALL WAS A RIOT \|playlist\| Step in front of a runaway train ____Just to feel alive again â•â•â•â•â•â•â•? ?•â•â•â•â•â• Dark 3.24.12 - Nick 6.4.12 - Henry 12.7.12 - Elliot & Rajat 3.28.16 sanctuary\|\|Closet\|\|~~Art Request~~ â•â•â•â•â•â•â•? ?•â•â•â•â•â• Pushing forward through the night_____ Aching chest and blurry sight Last edited by Espy; 02-03-2014 at 12:20 AM.
		Posted 02-02-2014, 11:52 PM

		#6	Quiet Man Cometh We're all mad here.
Still debating if I'm going to try and make a character or not. Don't want to get overloaded since I still have my cat rp to get going, and maybe another project if that gets off the ground. Decisions! Tea?
	Posted 02-03-2014, 12:00 AM

Salone Problem to the Solution			#7
	Ylnjor Magnusson, Swordbiter Ethnicity: French Allegiance: Sigurd the Dragonslayer Profession: Ambassador of the Norse, Translator Age: 32 Height: 5'11" Weight: 236 pounds Appearance: Ylnjor is a stout man. Built of muscle and experience, his body is honed for combat and a life of work. Being well fed and well trained has sculpted him. Dark brunette hair flows unkempt from his scalp, and a large beard hangs low enough to reach the center of his chest. Part of the ridge of his beard dips low on both sides, making accommodations for a set of nasty long scars where his mouth was ran through with a sword. Above the cheekbones, his pale skin is adorned with dark red tattoos that impersonate the smearing of blood. Dark brown eyes stare from the tattoos, permanently affixed with fury. He wears a thick cloak of skins to protect him from the elements, as well as as chainmail to protect from 'anything else'. He is clothed in drab browns and greys, and several belts and straps adorn his person. Two longswords drape across his back, and daggers clink at his waist. A Mammen Axe hangs on a belt loop on his left, in easy range for him to access. He stands with a slight predatory hunch, As if leaning in closer to his prey. A scale mail shoulder has been woven over his riding cloak and adorned with hide, to offer some slight protection and denote some standing of importance. Skill-at-Arms: 4. Several years of raids and battles has produced a resourceful and skilled combat veteran, highly proficient in axe and sword. Wisdom: 2. Kidnapped at a young age, Ylnjor's forcuses were forced in to physical prowess instead of scholarly knowledge. Magic: 1. While he knows of magic, he cannot comprehend its power or how it may be done. It is essentially "Wizard's stuff", and to him might distract one from more honest pursuits. Vitality: 5. Ylnjor's body is as tough as they come. He is blessed with a quick recovery from the few maladies that he has experienced, and his prime physique allows him to take untold punishment. Wealth: 4. Ransacking his former estate of its riches has left him with definite wealth. His pursuit of glory over luxury has allowed him to keep it. Other Notable Attributes: Ylnjor can speak both French and Norse. Speaks with a slow, purposeful tone as he has to over enunciate due to injuries sustained during combat. Possessions: Two Frankish longswords, one Mammen Axe, several small daggers, one chainmail outfit, several plain outfits of furs, leathers and hides. One donkey (Named Atgeir). Relationships: Lord Sabatiere Jean Laucroix (Father, killed), Lady Rocinante Laucroix (Mother, killed), Gunnar Magnus (Adoptive father, kidnapper, raider) Social Rank: Norse Ambassador to Charlemagne Honor: Ylnjor's reputation among his people means everything to him. He upholds the Norse way of life to the best of his ability. If he is to murder someone, they will have an opportunity to defend themselves. Ylnjor will keep his word, although his word is seldom given. However, all sense of honor evaporates for anyone who has wronged him or deceived him, and are easily marked for death. Biography: The man now known as Ylnjor Magnusson was born to the minor nobles Lord Sabatiere Jean Laucroix and Lady Rocinante Laucroix. His early years were passed in relative normalcy for a young nobleman. However, at the age of eight his life took an unexpected turn. While learning horseback riding away from the estate, his party was set upon by Viking raiders. The raiders slew the entire group and kidnapping the child, deciding that he may have use to them. Lord Laucroix was sent a letter of ransom for his son not long after. However as the weeks went by, it became clear that he never intended to pay the price on his son's head. Left with a child they never intended to keep, the raiders were perplexed. One decided to keep the child and raise it as his own. Adopting him in to their society, he was given a new name: Ylnjor Magnusson. The child had a difficult time adjusting to the hardships and fierce environment of the Norse lands. Once he did however, he embraced it. These people cared more for him than his parents ever had. He learned to fight, to subsist, to raid and bring wealth and glory to his adopted homeland. Throughout the years he participated in countless raids across the land, until one such tour brought him back to his original home. Ylnjor personally led the attack on his old estate. During the raid he met face to face with his former father. Confronting him, Ylnjor demanded answers as to why he was abandoned. Lord Laucroix used this time as a diversion, and attacked Ylnjor. Laucroix drove his sword through his son's face, piercing both cheeks with his blade and slicing his tongue. Ylnjor was able to overcome the attack and slay Lord Laucroix, but the encounter left him with permanent scars upon his cheeks and slurring of his speech. His wounds inspired the nickname 'Swordbiter,' which continued to follow him as he rose in prominence among the Vikings. He has felt a wedge driven between him and his homeland however, as Sigurd and Charlemagne seek an alliance between their people against a common enemy. Ylnjor has been selected as ambassador to Charlemagne's Court, a choice he sees as an insult. The humor of someone who has slaughtered former countrymen being selected as an emissary is not lost on him, but he feels he has been denied his right as a Viking to Valhalla. Robbed of his chance to die on the battlefield, he sees wasting away in the court of soft men to be a precursor to what awaits him behind Hel's gates. The position has left him angry and bitter, and at times seething with rage that is barely masked by proper wording. He hopes that Sigurd and Charlemagne will soon come to an agreement so he may return to where he believes he is needed most, and end the feeling that Sigurd, like Lord Lacroix, has abandoned him to an uncertain fate. Personality: Ylnjor is brash and bitter. He speaks in odd idioms and analogies meshed between his two cultures. His comedy consists of gallows humor and he is quick to see the negative in things. He is easily offended and jumps at the chance to defend his reputation and bravado. He finds the wealth and luxuriousness that surrounds him to be a gold-lined cage built to rob him of his durability. He comes off incredibly gruff in conversation and would rather brandish an axe than debate 'pointless gossip' between lands 'like women by the pantry'. In unseen irony, his stubbornness and absolute unwillingness to compromise in what he (and what he thinks Sigurd) wants is his biggest hurdle in the relations between Charlemagne and his people. Last edited by Salone; 02-20-2014 at 06:35 AM.
		Posted 02-05-2014, 07:39 AM

		#8	Vicious Whisper Barrel of Monkeys
I'm wondering if this is a bit much for me. Espylove! <3 You are simply brilliant! <3 Buying Pink and Black items
	Posted 02-06-2014, 05:59 PM

Espy Wanderer			#9
	Hm...It'll probably be similar in style to the Eschaton RP, if you need a reference point. STONEWALL WAS A RIOT \|playlist\| Step in front of a runaway train ____Just to feel alive again â•â•â•â•â•â•â•? ?•â•â•â•â•â• Dark 3.24.12 - Nick 6.4.12 - Henry 12.7.12 - Elliot & Rajat 3.28.16 sanctuary\|\|Closet\|\|~~Art Request~~ â•â•â•â•â•â•â•? ?•â•â•â•â•â• Pushing forward through the night_____ Aching chest and blurry sight
		Posted 02-06-2014, 06:18 PM

Gallagher It Won't Stop			#11
	It looks a lot worse than it is, really. If you have a question, stab Suze until he answers or someone answers for him. We're real chill about helping you out every step of the way. Even with working through actual posts.
		Posted 02-06-2014, 07:32 PM

		#12	Suzerain of Sheol Desolation Denizen
I suppose it depends on what kind of RP you're looking for, but I'd certainly be willing to have you, and am available to answer any questions. Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion between supposed lovers. Between supposed brothers.
	Posted 02-06-2014, 07:57 PM

Lawtan Dragon Storm			#13
	Raises hand I can help on anything Magic/Myth related Lawtan: A chaotic dragoness with issues. __ Library ï¿½ï¿½s oferï¿½ode, ï¿½isses swï¿½ mï¿½g. __ Science, horror, folklore, and cuteness incoming!
		Posted 02-08-2014, 11:07 AM

		#14	Quiet Man Cometh We're all mad here.
Okay, here's my space holder for something I will eventually get around to making. Still have more than a few things to work out. Name: Mistral Chastain Ethnicity: French Allegiance: The Holy-Emperor Charlemagne Profession: Hedge Knight Age: 32 Height: 5'4 Weight: 154 lbs Appearance: Mistral has the look of someone noble born, finely featured and with naturally pale skin, but it is often rough or tanned from travelling on the road and working on her equipment. Her hair is a light chestnut like many in her family and her eyes are dark green and wide. Her armour is well kept but nothing particularly unique. She wears heavy fabric skirting around her hips and legs as extra protection for her legs, which are not as heavily armour to allow her flexibility to mount and ride her horse with less trouble. Skill-at-Arms: 4. Mistral learned the bulk of her fighting skills from formal training. Her practical experiences with combat are focused on small skirmishes and one on one battles she has encountered in her wanderings since gaining her knighthood. Wisdom: 3. Mistral was given a basic education as a child in her home, focused on literature and domestic arts, in preparation to marry. In her knight training she learned horsemanship, etiquette, peerage and heraldry, and basic knowledge of laws and customs. Magic: 3. In exchange for the enchantment on her blade, Mistral must follow the rules set by Gadriel, which include never attacking an innocent or an unarmed opponent and never using the blade frivolously, such as in a bar brawl. Vitality: 4. Mistral is very hardy, which serves her well with the time she spends out of doors and sleeping wherever she can find suitable ground. Wealth: 2. Typically has only enough at any given time to feed herself and her horse and maintain the minimum of supplies needed to ensure the upkeep of her gear. Other Notable Attributes: speaks and reads French and English. Possessions: Vaillance (longsword enchanted by Gadriel), plate armour in French style with close helmet, Claude (dapple grey heavy horse), high backed saddle, face plate and leather protective barding for his chest, rondel, crossbow and quarrels, horseman's mace, items for basic armour/weapon upkeep (oils, whetstone, leather strips...), heavy bedroll, travel food (dried meats and fruits, nuts, bread if not far from a city or town). Relationships: Lady Mary Chastain (mother, English). Seigneur Jean-Luc Chastain (father, French). Marie, Sophie and Michelle (twins), Pascale (sisters). Guillame de Marechal (knight and mentor). Social Rank: Knighted. Landless. Honor: Devout Christian, and holds the code of Chivalry equally high. Always tries to do right by people she meets, but is not afraid to meet violence with violence, especially if she feel's she's justified. Biography: An active imagination, and indulgent father, and too many older sisters to marry off meant that Mistral grew up with more freedom than one would expect for a noble daughter, after she made it clear she was more interested in climbing trees and sparing with sticks than learning to be a housewife. Allowing her to act as she would also helped to silence the complaints from her tutors who were just as happy to let her be and focus on turning her sisters into ideal young women. As a young girl, Mistral was always enamored of knights and swordplay, begging to go to tournaments and sneaking away to watch groups of passing knights and their squires. Months of hinting, arguing, debate, and straight out insistence finally wore her father down enough that he would allow her to attend an academy for knightly training, provided she could find one that would accept her. Whether her father intended her to or not, Mistral found herself in training at a school run by the famed English knight Guillame de Marechal. Sir Guillame’s favour spared Mistral from harsh bullying by the other squires, but even so, as the only girl present, Mistral ended up on the receiving end of insults and bruises more often than not. As determined as the next individual, perhaps more so, Mistral persevered. Mistral has removed herself from succession in her family line, and so only has a fraction of the wealth she was born with. She spends nearly all of it maintaining her gear, horse, and health, sleeping outside or in a thoughtful person’s stable in order to save what money she has. Since gaining her knighthood, Mistral has been wandering the country regions of France, sometimes acting as escort of bodyguard as needed or requested, sometimes defending the peasantry from brigands other landless knights. As such, her combat experience is highest in smaller skirmishes or one on one combat. Her only large scale battle experience to date was at Crecy, helping to repel the invading English. It was not a battle she rightly should have survived, but if she were asked, she would say that a friend of God must have been preserving her. Just for what reason, she has yet to decide. Personality: Mistral’s definitive trait is the diehard determination that saw her through training to become a knight. Somewhat idealistic from the romanticized views of knights that she held as a child, she still insists on remaining optimistic even when faced with the harsh realities of the world. Tea? Last edited by Quiet Man Cometh; 03-04-2014 at 01:12 AM.
	Posted 02-09-2014, 05:52 AM

Lawtan Dragon Storm			#15
	Whistling around Camelot Lawtan: A chaotic dragoness with issues. __ Library ï¿½ï¿½s oferï¿½ode, ï¿½isses swï¿½ mï¿½g. __ Science, horror, folklore, and cuteness incoming!
		Posted 02-14-2014, 08:26 PM

		#16	Gallagher It Won't Stop
Whew. Finally finished. Kier Bodhar (formerly mac Alasdair) Ethnicity: Scottish Allegiance: The Holy-Emperor Charlemagne Profession: Varlet Age: 24 Height: 6’ Weight: 178lbs Appearance: Though built thickly, Kier has little muscle to speak of and a soft, rounded face. His skin is darker than that of most of his family, but easily freckled all the same. That is, except where it’s covered by patches of albino skin. One of these spots is on the right side of his face, including his entire eye and following down along his jaw. The eye on this side is a pale gray-ish pink, while the left is teal. Other spots are along the right side of his ribs, the back of his left hand, from his left heel halfway up the back of his shin, most of his skull down along the length of his spine, and one other that goes unseen and unmentioned. Wherever these spots are, his hair is white-blond. Everywhere else, it’s a bright red. Skill-at-Arms: 2 – While he’s never looked for fights, he’s had to defend himself in the past. Amélie has helped teach him basic techniques, but most he can’t get the hang of. Wisdom: 4 – Much of his free time growing up was spent learning skills from those around him. Instead of a formal education or writings to learn from, he had ample time, hands ready to be used, and adults kind enough to let him watch or assist with their work. He’d never master how to bake the perfect pie, flawlessly repair clothing, or carve a bowl that wasn’t lopsided, but he could always make the most of what he had. Magic: 4 – In exchange for half of his sight, he was given control of the water element, limited only by his imagination and the practice he puts into it. He has plenty of the former, but the latter he has neglected severely, only making use of a couple practical skills. Vitality: 4 – Besides the tendency for his lighter patches of skin to burn in the sun, Kier has never had any particularly serious illnesses or injuries. Wealth: 2 – After his own supplies and any that Amélie neglects, anything he has left is saved for whatever toy or trinket happens to catch his eye. Other Notable Attributes: Speaks Gaelic, English, and French. Can read and write basic Gaelic, a bit of French, and even less Latin. Possessions: Travel and campaign gear and provisions Relationships: Alasdar mac Neill (father), Maire inghean Einri (mother), Caitilin inghean Alasdair (sister), Dame Amélie Sans-Dieu de la Roche-Blanche (varlet to), Bo (best friend) Social Rank: Commoner, Landless Honor: Kier considers himself a Christian, but he’s never been devout. He seeks to do as much good as he can, and isn’t prone to either anger or violence, despite his efforts to help in the war. Above all, he thinks that people should try to find their own answers instead of following blindly and make the most of their lives. Biography: Kier was the second child to Alasdar and Maire, and their last. From the very first moments of his life, it was obvious that there was something wrong with him. In less than an hour of time outside, the spots on his skin would burn horribly, and even looking out when the sun was bright would hurt his eyes. While his mother embraced it all as a sign that the boy was closer to God, his father, and the rest of his family, thought otherwise. Alasdar remained as close to Caitilin as he ever was, but never bonded with his son, and grew distant from the woman that had birthed such a sin. With a temper and impulsive nature all her own, once she’d had enough neglect, Maire took her children, supplies, and their savings and left their home in the Scottish Highlands. The three stopped in several villages between there and Lowlands, Maire taking what temporary work she could to make sure they could get by, but often needing to barter with what few trinkets they had. This left the children to either run around on their own, with Caitilin looking after Kier, or under the care of whichever villagers their mother happened to make friends with. Eventually, Caitilin was old enough to help the small family earn their wages, allowing their mother to take them farther from their home. They went from Scotland to England, then from there across the waters to France just before the death of Arthur, never truly settling until Kier was well into his teens. Late one summer, while exploring just outside of the town, Kier stumbled upon a faery. Though he’d often dreamt of what he would do if the chance arrived, once it had, he didn’t have a clue what he could ask for. The faery sent him on his way, uninterested in its time being wasted, but invited the odd young man to return the next year. The months passed, and Kier heard more and more stories of the war. He grew a desire to help defend the lands, like the great knights were fighting so hard to do, despite being so obviously unfit for battle. He began preparations to head to a castle and find someone that would train him. For weeks, he would head out before dusk to search for the faery, certain now of what his purpose in life must be, and what he would ask of it. It was a cool afternoon, just a few days before his planned departure from the town, that he met the faery again. The two talked for hours until it was decided that in exchange for all sight in his right eye, he would be given control over part of nature. Just what this meant, the faery refused to say without Kier paying a higher price, but he accepted the deal all the same. After all, any magic was bound to help him reach his goal. In the years that followed, Kier made his way South to Avignon. He never had a chance of being the warrior he’d wanted to be, but was granted work under a knight. Personality: Always having to keep his limits in mind since childhood, he tries to hold himself back and keep his head low, but his impulsive nature gets the better of him. He’ll get attached to people easily and do what he can to make them happy and at ease, or at least what he assumes will do the trick, rarely asking if his assumptions are correct beforehand. He can be stubborn even over minor things, and rebel just for the sake of rebelling. While optimistic by nature, Kier is prone to mood swings and will either pretend to keep his hopes up, or wallow in his misery until something (usually insignificant) snaps him out of it. Above all, he wants to do something worthwhile with his life, even if people never think he is worth anything. He struggles to accept himself and is quick to react when he believes rejection is imminent.
	Posted 02-20-2014, 04:36 AM

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