Pokemon Mystery Dungeon RP
Prepare to face a new set of challenges in this brand-new Pokemon world as you square off against new enemies and rivals, forge new friendships, and create teams to travel the world with on your quest of discovery
Third Age OOC
Posts : 441
Poké : 2115
Join date : 2013-04-17
|Subject: Third Age OOC Wed Feb 25, 2015 5:04 am|| |
Why is it back? Because. Are you happy about it? I have no idea. Are you going to submit a bio? Why are you looking to me for the answer to these questions? You really need to re-evaluate your life priorities. You are beautiful, random internet citizen. Never forget that.Never...
1. Follow Proper RP Etiquette. No GodModing, No Mary Sues, No breaking the fourth wall or breaking character. You know what I mean. I will be watching. I have a vat of boiling acid with your name on it.
2. Don't be a dick. Remember how I said that you are beautiful, random internet person? That applies to everyone. You are all Star Children. We don't shit on stars. It would burn.
3. Give a penny, take a penny. Not the entire jar. I will call the authorities on your thieving ass. We have cameras.
4. No swimming for over an hour after eating. There are very strict penalties. Do not test the Lifeguard.
5. I think you left the oven on.
6. Have fun. Your life depends on it.
Now for the bio template:Name:
Along with this, a submission of your writing is required. These must be four good sized paragraphs at a minimum. Anyone wishing to impress/entertain me may write more, but do remember that these submissions are meant to gauge quality, not quantity.
These submissions must be an original work pertaining to the character you are submitting and cannot be your opening post for the RP.
It is encouraged that writing submissions be sent to me via PM to cut down on clutter, though if you are feeling especially proud of your writing you may post it along with your Character Submission.
If you are a previously accepted member of the RP, a Writing Submission is not required.
These are the races which you have to choose from:
-The High Elves
Descendants of the Ethereals who originally sealed away Akadesh in Saulen, the High Elves are a haughty race, generally turning their noses up at the other races, who they dub as cowards for hiding as Ethereals so long ago. The High Elves have a very structured society with its own form of government, it's own cities, and a Grand Army. Crime is very low in High Elf cities due to a policy of public executions by magical means. This can range from anything as simple as being burnt alive to something as complex as having your entire mass slowly condensed to the size of a pebble. Poverty is also reportedly low, though some believes these reports may be falsified by the government in order to maintain appearances.
High Elves are usually fair-skinned and slightly taller than humans. They have long, pointed ears and very sharp, beautiful faces. Their dress is often very elaborate and decorative, using only the finest materials.
-The Wood Elves
Wood Elves, in general are much more laid back and friendly than their cousins, the High Elves. Before the Burning of Vendrali they operated using a sort of tribe governance. Each tribe held sway over certain parts of the Forest and generally got along well. After the Burning, the Wood Elves turned into nomads, spreading all over Urasis. Their laws and customs vary, depending on he group they originate from.
The Wood Elves are usually very fit and athletic. Their skin ranges from tan to dark, depending on where they originate from. They are much taller than humans or High Elves, standing at an average 6' 3".
Humans are a new race to Urasis. Arriving at the beginning of the Third Age, they have only inhabited the area for roughly six hundred years. In that time, however, they have caused a major shift in the balance of power in Urasis. Humans have no true form of central government, or at least not in Urasis. Hailing from lands to the west, most humans now only have a vague idea of why they moved to these lands. Some claim crop failure, others say it was to escape tyranny. Others still claim it was something far more sinister. Rumors are conflicting and exaggerated. Humans, it seems, care much more for their future, than the do dwelling on the past.
There are many conflicting ideas on the origins of humans. Perhaps they are a forth descendent of the Ethereals, as they can use magic readily. Other theories suggest they may be descendants of the dwarves. They may have genesis completely separate from the races of Urasis.
Humans in general have fit, muscular builds, though some are prone to gluttony and are quite over weight. Their skin tone varies in all tones. Their average height is about 5'8".
Descended from the Ethereals who hid in the ground during the sealing of Al'kadesh, dwarves are stubborn but proud race. Very rarely did they venture out of their earthly dwellings until the arrival of humans. Now, with competition in the metal trade, the dwarves are being forced to find new ways of living.
Rarely leaving their homes for over three Ages, very little is known about Dwarven culture. They do operate with some clan based government, with regular gatherings of these clans to discuss issues that will have effect on all of them. It is clear they are capable of great feats of infrastructure and any treated to a visit of their homes will be surely impressed.
Physically, Dwarves are short and stocky, but built like the rock around them. They are very durable creatures and can survive things that would kill any other race. They usually sport great, long beards and take much pride in caring for them. On average, Dwarves stand about 4'5".
Every demon that is considered sociable are lower demons. Higher demons are too violent and dangerous to attempt any sort of diplomacy and relations. Demons, in our world at least, have no form of government or organization. They are mostly loners, drifting from place to place.
Demons are the descendants of the Ethereals that Akadesh dragged into Saulen when he was sealed. These original demons may still exist, and if they do they are no doubt the Demon Lords most powerful and trusted servants.
As far as we understand, all demons are fundamentally broken creatures. They depend on other creatures for power. In Saulen, that source may simply be Al'kadesh. When they are given to Warlocks, their souls are bound. Since almost all sociable demons are the results of killing their masters, they have a deficiency in their souls. All demons must consume other souls to survive. One soul will usually last a demon two to three weeks. After this they begin to experience a certain "hunger". If not sated, the demons will begin to wither away until they die.
There seem to be three types of demons that exist in our world:
These Demons specialize in seducing beings and stealing their souls, usually during the act of intercourse. They are, as a rule, extremely attractive, and it is rumored they can slightly change their form in order to appeal to different "tastes". They are naturals in the art of persuasion and many have made a living as successful merchants, though this does not mean that they cannot fill any other role.
Usually appearing as children, Imps are maniacal tricksters. They have been known to trick, swindle, and cheat numerous poor souls out of their souls. They do not seem to age, at least not physically. It would seem people are far more trusting of children: a costly mistake.
Deriving their name from the Elvish phrase "The Dead Ones" these demons seem to be masters of death and disease. Oddly, it seems these creatures can only steal souls from those who have recently died. Physically, they appear to be dead themselves. With pale skin and some decomposition, most Shal'kesh are the visage of death itself. Indeed, their have been reports of Shal'kesh who appear to be more skeleton then flesh, however these forms appear to be set. They do not decompose over time.
The Fey are, in some ways, descended from the High Elves. Their bodies have been warped by magic to take on some characteristics of animals. As a consequence, they are highly adaptable, taking traits from whatever animals are thriving in the area around them.
While a child's personal preference seems to have some say in the works, the Fey's special form of magic is mostly out of their control. By the time they reach the age of twenty-six, any form of magic will have been used up in the process of changing and crafting their forms and they will be stuck with their body for life.
The Fey have no central government. After the Quarantines, they were few in number and moved often. As a result, their lifestyle today reflects this. Families and small groups will usually stay together, and in some cases may even settle down. High Elf persecution of the Fey has died down significantly with the arrival of humans, allowing the Fey more freedom. They can often be found in human settlements or traveling with bands of Wood Elves.
Physically, it is hard to classify the Fey. By definition, these shapeshifters have no set forms. They do often seem to sport tan skin, an average height of 6'0", and slightly pointed ears (not counting any extra they may have developed) but these can hardly be called a standard.
I would like to add that, while I would usually refer you to the Encyclopedia in the Library for information, I can't do that now. The Encyclopedia is under heavy revision, as my ideas for the history and mythology of this word have changed drastically. Even the race descriptions do not have entirely accurate historical points, especially the humans. However, they work to give you a feel of the race in general. This has not changed.
If you do have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask me. I'm always happy to discuss this RP and teach people about this world I'm crafting.
Now, off with you. Make some RP magic.
Wait a second...
Do you smell that?
It smells like smoke.
Did you- OH MY GOD YOU LEFT THE OVEN ON! QUICK, CALL THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!
Get a hose! My house! MY BEAUTIFUL HOUSE!
Why didn't you just listen to the rules?! WHY DIDNT YOU JUST FOLLOW THE RUUULLEESS!!!
It's okay... I think the insurance will cover it.
Still, you owe me payment. A lot of payment. As a start, you can make one joke rule somewhere in your post. You at least owe me that.
Got it? Okay. Good.
Posts : 3049
Poké : 9100
Join date : 2014-08-21
Location : I really do not know.
|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC Thu Feb 26, 2015 5:02 am|| |
Physical Description: A lone figure walked into a shop in town, his hood covered his face so it was unknown for now what he truly looked like. He wore a long trench coat which fell just next to his knees. His hands had gloves on them with one having a design which looked slightly like the sun, as he turned the other revealed a moon symbol. To the respected choice the sun was white while the moon was black, light and dark.
His cloak covered his face but one thing could be seen from the hood, two cold blue eye's which seemed to give everything the death stare though behind the eye's it didn't seem like he wanted them to. And on his back was a large blade almost as big as the figure was, it held a similar design as his glove. One could guess they came from the same place. The figure quickly walked over to look at something when a shelf snagged on his cloak, in one swift movement it was off him revealing his whole figure.
He wore slightly baggy pants which mostly looked like they were meant for someone larger and taller. His ears and face revealed that he was a simple human slightly shorter then the average height they were normally, a simple black shirt was all he wore to cover his chest, one could see he was using the cloak as cover for his whole body. Combat boots were on his feet but unlike his pants these seemed to fit well on him. A belt was around his waist which no design on it.
His face seemed calm and he looked young, one thing was obvious on his face though. A large scar went across his left eye and down until it almost his the lip. He looked lucky he didn't lose his eye in getting that scar. The color of his skin was slightly pale but it looked more of how he was born rather then getting no sun.
Personality: Hunter normally acts older and wiser then his age normally tells. Since he was taught a lot when he was young he keeps up a sort of powerful persona about his life. Always likes the keep things in his light meaning people and animals he always wants a sort of upper hand in a situation. He hates when people question things about him, ranging from his gloves to his sword he will snap back if someone pursues enough questions.
He can keep calm about most situations but will start to act more and more angry if the situation calls for it. He always replies nice to someone even someone trying to kill him. One thing he always does before a fight is give his opponent a chance to walk away. Only one if they don't he will show no mercy. He tries to stay away from people of the opposite gender if he can avoid it.
History: Hunter grew up in a village far away from the land he is in now. He lived a harsh life mostly full of his father's training in order to make him a powerful warrior. Most of his day's were filled with running stairs, push ups and combat training with only a days rest in between weeks. Since he was born into this life he never questioned it and thought it was normal for his life to be like this. He was better then most around age twelve and was able to take down most grown adults at age 16.
He left his village at the age of 17 and lived his life on the road since never staying in one place. Still continuing his training he found himself able to fight off everything that came at him. He did get overconfident during one fight and got a nasty scar on his eye. Hunter was lucky he still had his eye at that time it was almost cut along with his face.
Once he reached the age of 18 he adopted a new sort of symbol. He wears a sun symbol and a moon symbol on both gloves and has the same symbol on his blade. He wishes for others to remember this symbol so though his life my end his symbol won't.
Greatsword fighting- as said he has knowledge with a greatsword and can fight with almost pure expertise. Uses one arm to hold the blade when he's not serious but switches to two hands when he feels the fight is worth it.
Basic healing- On the road he learned he had a small knack for healing spells so he learned one for the road.
Last edited by Rezikun on Sat Feb 28, 2015 4:53 am; edited 1 time in total
|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC Thu Feb 26, 2015 4:29 pm|| |
Age: 26 (he appears to be in early twenties)
Physical Description, skills, & fighting: (character appearance inspired from a collection of characters:
- http://img3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130603033155/p__/protagonist/images/6/61/Judeau.jpg )
A young man stares up in awe at the large mansions lining the street. His sandy-blond short hair sways under the gentle command of the morning breeze and his feline ears twitched in response to a sound off in a shadowy alley. Moments later his bright green eyes flashed over to the alley in question; probing its depths with curiosity.
"Could that be it?" his tenor voice wondered aloud before the person approached the small gap. As he moved his plain yet durable leather vest made barely a sound as it moved over a grey cloth shirt and plain pants. The apparel was wholly unremarkable, yet it was unrestrictive and shielded him from most of the cold. Besides, the clothing was tailor made for him as it accommodates the plush cat's tail swaying behind him. To the cat-enhanced agile Fey, it was as good as any armor.
Mak searched through the alleyway until he stopped in front of a pair of barrels. Inside the dark shadows between the two containers, a pair of bright yellow eyes stared out at the teen. "There you are." Mak murmured soothingly as he lowered himself to a squat. He reached out a slender hand, his fine skin a tribute to his race's elvin heritage, and the cat pulled deeper into the shadows hissing in fear. "I bet you were treated horribly by your masters huh? Don't worry, I'm here to help. I won't let anyone else harm you." The Fey crooned, and by the time he had finished coaxing a small black cat had cautiously stepped out of the shadows. Mak allowed the kitten to go at her, he new instinctively, own pace until she mewled softly and rubbed against his hand. At that time Mak gently picked up the kitten and held her comfortably in his arms.
Turning back to the entrance of the alley the Fey saw a trio of silhouettes blocking the way, and when the kitten saw the figures she shivered slightly and buried her face in his arm. Noticing the reaction, Mak narrowed his eyes; you could almost see his hair lifting in fury. "Are you the owners of this kitten?" The Fey spat out, to which the person in the front of the trio chuckled. "Why yes, since you've mentioned it we have lost a cat not to long ago. How about you hand that beast over to us, and we'll forgive you presence on this street." The leader's haughty voice replied, the human couldn't be older than twenty. Every word out of the human's mouth only stoked Mak's anger. It was too proud, too disrespectful, too drunk on the power of being the upper class for him to ignore. No, this was something he had to do.
There is a certain calmness one experiences when they decide upon a specific course of action, fully realizing the effects could only be negative. Mask felt that calmness as he lowered himself to a squat before releasing the kitten; whispering to it to find someplace safe. As if the cat perfectly understood Mak's words she scampered back to her hiding spot between the two barrels. "You should better respect these creatures, they have just as much life as any of you have." The Fey's voice was surprisingly cold as he stood up and glared at the three. His countenance has drastically shifted: ears flattened, pupils structured like a cat, mouth curled in a faint snarl to reveal small fangs, body slightly hunched forward predatorially. Indeed, he looked like a feral cat about to attack. The trio would likely have been intimidated by the aggressive transformation if Mak wasn't covered in the shadows, but since he was they only saw a foolishly overconfident young man.
With the misrepresentation of Mak's anger the elites laughed. The leader began speaking "what right does a peasant ha-" Whatever else he was going to say was lost as the Fey had rushed forward, silencing the speaker by pressing a polished wooden board, vaguely the dimensions of a common shortsword, into the teen's neck. "Here," Mak hissed, "there are no social classes. Here, in the shadows, one can only rely on themselves. You have no power here." Really, it was mostly intimidation. Mak's fighting experience consisted of watching the city guard and striking at a simple dummy he constructed himself in the space he claimed as his home; he had yet to strike a living being. However the Fey's moxie lent strength to his words, and it caused the three humans to question their chances. "you can't hurt us. We can get the city guard to put a bounty on you." The leader took a half step backward, his voice wavering uncertainly as if he didn't believe that would really work. Surprisingly the threat of the club was removed, but before they could breathe a sigh of relief Mak replied. "I'm expecting something like that." It seems that all the guy doing was shifting the weapon into a backhand position.
Moving with precision and speed, somehow keeping balance thanks to his maneuverable tail, Mak danced around the trio of humans. Throughout his artful motions he continuously rained blows on the humans. Perhaps because he hasn't had any formal instruction the Fey's fighting style maximizes his strengths by attacking while tumbling, and manages to achieve skill comparable to more experienced fighters.
Some time later a winded Mak left the alleway, the kitten safely held in his protective arms, and returned to his home. "Guess what friends? We have a new family member!" The Fey announced brightly over the happy meows of at least eight different cats. It was almost a day later that the bruised and battered noblemen regained consciousness and struggled back to their respective houses, their pride crushed from the solid beating delivered from Mak.
See physical Description for roleplaying feel, but here are some pointers about his personality:
-Due to Mak's only real education coming form the aged Hewyn, who focused more on moral lessons than the state of the world, and that most people tried to avoid the Fey in their midst, Mak grew to be a really lighthearted naive young man. This may get him into dangerous situations as his innocent curiosity and lack of understanding can easily get the best of him.
-Despite his fighting ability he prefers to find a non-violent situation if possible as he believes that most situations can be reasoned through without needing brute force. This sentiment may lessen once he's killed or mortally wounded something he wouldn't consider prey.
-He has a strong moral code against the mistreatment of animals, especially cats, that is fueled by his empathy forcing him to experience the pain the animals suffer. Breaking that code, even by accident is one of the fastest ways to make Mak furious.
-Mak is still emotionally mature as his age suggests and can easily understand foreign concepts if they are explained to him.
They Fey are a scattered race, staying in one place for only the briefest of times before moving on. Usually they take after their own, but there is the occasional child left behind due to their youthful similarities to humans. Mak was one of those children accidentally abandoned when one company of Fey moved through one of the larger cities built by humans.
The child, filled with youthful curiosity at all the colorful baubles and wares, had wandered away from the company when the group made its way through the main market. By the time he had made twenty paces from the rest of his race Mak was hopelessly lost in the busy street.
An old woman found the distraught child crying alone hours later, and after comforting him she took him in and cared for the fae. It turned out that the woman was Hewyn, an elderly woman surviving off of donations from the community and takes care of stray cats for company. The woman truly was kind and taught Mak to respect animals as equals, in fact it is thanks to Hewyn that Mak lived in happiness despite being an orphan.
As time progressed Mak grew restless, dreaming of adventure and excitement beyond the simple living space. By the time his race's shapechanging really started to come into effect from being around so many cats he managed to cobble together a rickety dummy and find a wooden club about the same size as a shortsword. At first he was merely having fun swinging the club at the dummy, but it eventually became a good vent for his frustrations on idleness. Eventually that too evolved into something that became routine to him, and often he wished that something would happen to him.
Something did, however that something wasn't good. Hewyn was aged when she first found Mak, and it wasn't much longer after that she would grow too old to live. She passed away with the Fey by her bedside, and even to the very end she tried to comfort the child. Her final lesson to the Fey was that everyone had their time to die, some peacefully and some violently, but they would all die eventually; what is truly important is the legacy you leave behind.
If a message like that didn't hyperinflate his lust for adventure then nothing would. Mak almost packed up to just wander right after Hewyn died, yet something kept him there. It was the cats, Mak knew they had grown complacent after being fed and cared for by him and Hewyn after so long. He couldn't just leave them as they can no longer fend for themselves. Therefore, to keep true to what Hewyn taught him (her legacy is him so he will live what she taught him the best he can) and because his consciousness demands it Mak remained to train the cats to hunt rats and fend for themselves. Once that was completed the Fey promised himself that he would leave the city.
Let me know if I'm going to far with Mak's abilities:
-Animal affinity: due to his lifetime association with cats, Mak is able to connect with them on a higher level than would be considered normal. He is able to sympathetically feel the raw emotions of nearby felines and they can understand his words.
-Feline Grace: After spending most of his life around the cats his human mother took care of Mak has acquired many feline characteristics, including ears, tail, and decent night vision (usually his eyes look normal, but when he is angry or otherwise uncomposed his eyes may shift into the cat's vision slit). He also has higher reflexes than the average human, bordering on the litheness of elves.
This is my attempt on getting back in the mood of roleplaying, so if this falls apart I'm stealing the entire penny jar and running; understand? :D
Oh wait, we were supposed to make a new rule, not break an existing one. My bad, everyone must be forgiven for a mistake. So now I have my rule and paid my due.
Last edited by TraceNoil on Wed Mar 04, 2015 4:55 pm; edited 19 times in total
Posts : 441
Poké : 2115
Join date : 2013-04-17
|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC Thu Feb 26, 2015 7:00 pm|| |
Posting my own bio. This should give you all a feel for what they're like. Still, don't feel like you need to copy my format to the "T". Please, have fun with it.
Name: Mira Theo'lith
Age: 46 (Appears to be in her late twenties. Note that Fey have exceedingly long life spans, as they are descended from High Elves.)
Physical Description: A door swings open at the front of the tavern. Rousing from your drink, you look over your shoulder to see a figure wrapped in a dark wool cloak enter the room. A hood is worn on the person's head, covering the face in shadow. The figure is tall. Very tall. By your estimate, around six and a half feet. The newcomer makes a quick gesture at the barman and then heads for a small booth in the corner. After sitting down, you are given the chance to examine the figure closer.
The cloak is long and seems to be made of a thick, fulled wool. It is worn at the bottom and a stain of mud and dirt has dirtied what at one time may have been a green color, turning it to a mucky brown. Judging by the muddy, scuffed boots, you surmise that the stranger is used to traveling.
Sheathed at the traveler's side is a long sword and a quiver of arrows hang on the back with the matching bow leaning against the end of the booth. The hilt of the sword seems to be of fine work, though whose work is left to question. The bow is less of a mystery. It is indeed of fine Elvish make, graceful but strong. You also spy another sheath hung across the person's chest, holding what would seem to be a large, dangerously curved knife. Along side the sword, there hangs an axe forged from a black metal, the edge sharp and gleaming. The head is equipped with a long, curved axe edge which slims to the other end down to a viscous looking spike, pointed like a knife. It is clear that the traveler is no stranger to a fight.
Underneath the cloak is a leather jerkin, mantle, and a few straps and buckles, all sufficiently scuffed and dirtied. A dark tabard hangs down to the knee. The traveler takes out a pipe which is decorated with intricate metal designs. As the figure lights a match, you make out the face beneath the hood. Your eyebrow raises slightly. A woman?
Looking more closely, you confirm the traveler's gender. Wide hips and a pronounced chest hide under all the leather and cloth. Examining the woman's face in the soft light emitted from the pipe, you make out near silver hair and a tanned complexion. Underneath the hood glare deep amber eyes, flecked with grey. The orbs dart in your direction and you quickly look away, not wishing to be caught staring.
Later, as a drink is brought over to the shady woman, you chance another glance. Reaching out her hand to take the glass, part of the woman's arm is revealed. Though it is partially covered by long sleeves, you make out a tattoo inked into the woman's wrist. Your eyes now widen as you see the mark of a Ranger of the Eiarthden. These Rangers are indeed queer folk and surely no good will come of one being in town.
For the rest of the night, you pay the Ranger no mind, not wishing to be caught by those eyes. However, when she eventually leaves, you cannot help but take one last peak. With that stolen glance, you see a flicker of something beneath the cloak? A tail?
No. You shake your head. Just another strange trick. All the stories you've heard tell of the strangeness of these folk and you're not about to let one pull a fast one on you. Soon you go back to your drink and the stranger becomes nothing more than another story to tell the fellows around the bar.
Personality: Focused, self motivated, and generally unfettered, Mira has spent her life in pursuit an ideal. An individualist at heart, she has a very strong sense of justice and will let nothing get in the way of making sure her actions meet her expectations. Through years of travel and training, she has become bitter and jaded on the surface, giving off a cool demeanor and being sure to keep others distanced from herself. Somewhere inside is the fire of an idealist and an optimist, but it is quickly cooled before it can bubble to the surface.
History: For years, the Fey have lived life as if on the run. They move from place to place, doing whatever is necessary to get by. They often produce families of many children, in an attempt to assure the survival of their bloodline. Tragically, sometimes these families find they do not have the means to support one or two children. As such, Fey foster children or orphans are a common occurrence in Urasis. Such was the fate of one child.
Left an orphan, the Fey girl was fortunately found by a most unlikely foster parent. A man by the name of Tabion found the girl on the edge of the Vendrali Forest and took her as his own. Tabion, being a kind and gentle man, raised the girl in his own way. He gave her the name of Mira Theo'lith which means 'Hopeful Light' in Elvish.
Long a member of the Eiarthden, Tabion would teach the girl the ways of the forest, traveling with her across the vast lands of Urasis and sometimes past it's borders. Before long, Tabion began to notice the changes in Mira as she blossomed to a young woman. Developing wolf ears, a tail, and growing to an impressive height, she left no doubt in Tabion's mind as to her heritage. Being educated in some lore, Tabion did his best to teach Mira of her people and help her cope with the changes.
Soon, Mira joined the Eiarthden herself, traveling alongside Tabion as an equal.
Presently, many years later, Mira travels alone. It is not know exactly what has become of her mentor and father, but it is now clear that Mira makes her way alone.
Last edited by Jax on Fri Feb 27, 2015 12:21 am; edited 2 times in total
|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC Thu Feb 26, 2015 9:14 pm|| |
Name: Triifyn Ruoin
Age: 19 (currently stands at 6'1" tall)
Race: Wood Elf
Physical Description: You were simply minding your own business; Looking for small twigs and other various objects for building your very important nest. The golden sun warmly flickered over the almost totally bare treetops, but if one looked close enough, little buds were beginning to slowly bloom where the snow had melted. As a young bluebird, your life is always quite busy during the spring. Your little gray beak pecked at the soil in attempt to pick up a very slim shoot of dead switchgrass, when you suddenly perk up at a peculiar sound. Was it some sort of beast trying to sneak up on you? You cautiously prepare your cerulean-feathered wings to take immediate flight when a young Wood Elven boy bursts through the underbrush with a roar of laughter. Letting out an alarmed cry, you soared up onto the nearest cedar tree branch and tried to calm your ruffled feathers as he sprinted past.
The leaping blur had a very swarthy bronze skin tone, as did most Wood Elves, and didn’t appear to have much muscle... But no less agile it seemed. The figure was slowing to a halt near your tree. You curiously leaned and inspected it ever closer from your low-hanging branch. It was somewhat bent over while panting, “Hah-.. hah.. hah..” The dark-skinned and dark-haired elf was a long-legged fellow indeed, sporting a short-sleeved fawn-brown tunic of linen and wool, as well as mud-streaked pants that were noticeably shredded at the knees. That tunic of his actually also appeared to have little wear-and-tear too, having obvious loose stitching at the neck and front. The ‘thing’ wore nothing on his feet. What a raggedy thing, isn’t it? You thought disapprovingly, tilting your head away uncomfortably as the boy stood up tall again and turned with a playful grin towards you. “Hey, little bird… Did I scare you? I apologize.” He placed out his hand in your direction, long fingers outstretched and palm facing upward. He was leaning one side against the tree leisurely and was obviously gesturing for you to come closer. Ironically, the earnest smile of his was a pure clean white.
After a couple minutes of reasonable hesitation and consideration, you decided to trust this elf. This child was rambunctious and loud, but Wood Elves weren’t the type to harm the animal folk. You opened your fragile wings and briefly took the few graceful wingstrokes away from the safety of the cedar to perch lightly onto the boy’s index finger. Unlike the rest of his unkempt appearance, you found that a neat laurel helm of preserved autumn oak leaves framed his face from his cheek-length, shaggy brunette hair quite nicely. The face was delicately freckled at the cheeks, without a blemish, scar or any Wood Elven tribal paint. You suddenly tensed up as the elf reached for one of the pockets of his pants with his other hand, but quickly relaxed when he simply pulled out a few seeds and offered them to you. You took the time to look over the thin bruised-covered arms before snapping up the food offering in your beak. The full, almost feminine sea-grey eyes of the boy watched you calmly; Oddly, the color seemed almost unnervingly cold and disconsolate the more you stared back at him.
“Little Hare! Little Hare!” A sudden call interrupted your trance from the glacial gaze and you suddenly dived away from the cupped hand, taking to the skies with delayed fright. Your little bluebird heart was pumping just as fast as your wings as you flew farther and farther away from the boy and the cedar tree. You only looked back long enough to see his little form in the faraway distance, dashing back in the direction of whence he came.
Personality: Triifyn is extremely spontaneous and friendly, enjoying to run in the forest with his peers and interact with the animals there. Like almost every sane Wood Elf, he cares about nature almost above all else and is immediately willing to fight others who threaten to harm it in his presence. This young lesser elf loves to climb trees and is always seeking a bird’s eye view, this is also the reason he has so many bruises. Along with being so carefree, he is reasonably unfamiliar with responsibility. However he is extremely athletic and physically fit from his forest activities. His parents have educated him in the flora and fauna of the woods, and how to use it for himself while remaining respectful to Mother Nature, as well as the basics of elven magic.
History:: After the Burning of Vendrali, the Ruoin family originally departed with the Kiel family to the large expanse of woods to the far west of Urasis. There they have lived as a combined tribal family, still keeping and carrying out the many customs of life before the Burning. This relatively small group of Wood Elves each hold a rank according to seniority, with the head being the oldest man or woman, who gains the title known as “Great Mother” or “Great Father”. The “tribe” has no name since they all consider themselves one family, however many of the separate families of Ruoin or Kiel descent branch out. Triifyn was the second offspring of Vian (of Ruoin) and Cristlel (of Kiel), and was born in late autumn. His older sister, Iellwen, was born 3 years before him in the winter, and she and Triifyn were always very close. Him, his sister, his father and mother all live in a elvish-grown tree hut. A majority of the Wood Elves in their forest village have also grown their homes from the extremely large trees over time; “Miyuo trees”, they were affectionately called after the beloved first “ Great Father “ bearing the same name. By carving out the innermost heartwood of the tree and using the natural basal cavities as entryways and exits, these trees serve as exceptional shelter during the cold winter and the heat of summer. Triifyn has lived a generally happy and normal life with no real struggles or tragic happenings up until this point, so there really isn’t much to go on about in those regards. Just recently however, a contagious and unknown parasitic illness has caused delayed growth and premature death in the crucial Miyuo trees; Triifyn is to be one of several young, fit male Wood Elves that is sent to search for a cure outside the forest. It is his first time leaving his home and family behind, but he ultimately decided he needed to leave for the sake of his people.
Misc: Since his legs are particularly long and entirely out of proportion compared to his arms, his mother often calls him her “Little Hare” (to his annoyance). He also notably has gotten along very well with the few Feys he’s briefly met and enjoys their company, though his mother was always somewhat disapproving of him having close friendships with them. She wasn’t particularly fond of their “obnoxious and disrespectful” behavior by imitating animals.
...AAAND JOKE RULE: What does a pirate say on his 80th birthday? Aye matey...
Last edited by Tommy Boy on Fri Mar 06, 2015 1:57 pm; edited 14 times in total
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|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC Thu Feb 26, 2015 9:53 pm|| |
Name: Calaun Waer
The door to the loud tavern swings open to reveal a tall, dark figure in the doorway. The figure is about 6 feet tall, and wearing a large, hooded cloak the color of midnight on the new moon. The cloak is nearly as long as the figure itself, a split up the back of the cloak to allow the figure to run without tripping over the loose fabric. The cloak has obviously seen better days, as the material is worn, with several stains darkening the fabric, if that's possible.
As the figure strides into the tavern and takes a seat at the bar, he or she does not remove the cloak, merely lowering the hood to speak to the bartender without seeming rude. Lowering the hood reveals a head of warm brown hair, tied in a braided ponytail to keep the hair out of their face. The figure is revealed to be a woman as one looks upon her face to see softer features and no facial hair, a distinct difference to the gruff men around her. Emerald-green eyes seem to stare into the very soul of whomever meets them, causing uncomfortable shifts as a few young, leering men look away. Though at first glance she may not seem to fit in, she apparently has no trouble easily greeting the men as if she were one herself, and many of them clap her on the back when they see her, their eyes crinkling and small smiles tugging at their lips as they greet her in respect.
But not all men are so happy to see the woman in their midst, and one particular drunkard nears the lady, leering and sneering at her seeming presumption to sit amongst the men. The woman's eyes turn dark, and the easy smile falls from her face as she stands, challenging the drunkard for his words. The man draws a large broadsword and proceeds to threaten the woman, but she will have none of it. She casts aside her dark cloak to reveal strong armor; an iron breastplate beneath a sheet of chainmail that extends to her knees, where a light armor skirt ends with thin, tan-colored trousers. The woman reaches for her own sword, a black-hilted hand-and-half sword. She points the sword at the man with her left hand, arm open to reveal a tattoo of a sword and shield surrounded by flames. This is not a woman one would want to challenge lightly, it seems.
Alignment ~ Chaotic Good
Calaun is a serious soul. She was raised by her mother to be a proud warrior and to never let her fears hold her back from what needed to be done. Calaun is not a woman for males to gawk at or wolf-whistle to, as she will punch them in the jaw or nose for doing so. Though Calaun has her pride, she also has enough humility to admit when she is wrong, and is not too headstrong to let her emotions get the best of her decision-making.
Calaun was born and raised in Beorem by her mother. Her father had died not long before she had been born, from a falling beam in one of the houses he was helping construct. After her husband's death, Calaun's mother, Ayrunn, turned to her family's roots in blacksmithing to pay for Calaun and her to live.
Ayrunn taught Calaun to be a proud warrior; and to never be ashamed of being a woman warrior. She taught Calaun that some people, especially men, would look down on her, but to prove to them that she was just as good as they were. Calaun took these lessons to heart, and always remembers her mother's words when she is at work or when she is attacked by others.
Calaun enrolled in Beorem's military the moment she turned 18, knowing she was enrolling herself into at least 4 grueling years of service for the military. She trained hard, wanting to prove to herself that she could be better than any man, indeed, be the absolute best in the training. Though she trained hard every day and tried twice as much as the other recruits, the fact remained that certain men were built stronger and tougher than her. But though she was not the absolute best, she was respected in the military for her determination and loyalty.
After serving in Beorem's military for 6 years, two more than she was required to, Calaun decided to become a mercenary. She had heard that money was better for privately-hired mercenaries than it was working directly for the military, so she struck out on her own. She has been all around Urasis in her mercenary work, and knows many people from all around Urasis, as a well-known mercenary who works hard and rarely fails a job.
Misc: Rule # 34: ALWAYS EAT COOKIES. ALWAYS.
Last edited by Haley on Fri Feb 27, 2015 1:36 am; edited 4 times in total
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|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC Fri Feb 27, 2015 12:48 am|| |
Name: Ninquië Itham
Age: 38 (looks about 20-22ish?)
Race: High Elf
Class: Mage - Arcane Mage
Physical Description and Weapons:
6'2" and plagued with a number of small genetic mutations resulting from a rather "careless" mother and an identical twin- who died in the womb, I might add (probably because of some little stuck-up hothead's constant shit-spewing...) -Nin has a rather unique appearance. Nin's bangs are a light brown color, where the rest of her hair is a pale blonde; her natural hair color. Her eyes are blue and green; and by that I mean there are green patches in her blue eyes where pigment is lacking. If her twin had survived to see life outside the womb, it is speculated that his/her appearance would have been the opposite of Nin's. Her face is very mousey. Her hair is tied into two ponytails in the front, which hang over her shoulders, and the rest is free-flowing in the back. On her head she wears a head piece made of two metal strips which are ornately decorated and hug the top-back portion of her head. The strips are anchored on either side of the head a few inches over the ear by silver masses that are shaped vaguely like ram's horns, and the whole thing is held onto Nin's head by an adjustable chain-and-clasp mechanism below the straps. These headbands of sorts are considered very high-fashion in certain sects of High-Elf culture.
She always dresses rather elegantly because of her status as a High Elf; her everyday clothes being a very fanciful gown (which is actually rather plain by high elf fashion standerds). Her dress is very conservative and mainly white, accented with the colors purple and light blue. It is ornately decorated with metal and embroidery work (mostly representations of different constellations and a few floral patterns based on deadly flowers). Under her dress, she also wears and intricate web of fishnet chains and undergarments that hold hundreds of different alchemical ingredients. Her body is covered in tattoos of the formulas and spells she's learned over the years, covering every square inch of her body besides her neck, hands, and face. She dresses modestly in order to hide them.
Nin has decent curves (dat ass, brah). She also has no specific weapons to speak of (crept for a silver dagger which she usually uses as a litmus strip for poison), nor does she exactly have a need for them. She does carry around a trunk which contains her magic and alchemic materials.
-Alignment: Chaotic Nuetral
-General Personality: Nin isn't really a bad person. She's just childish. She loses sight of what's truly important to her (if she even knows what that is) and is easily caught up in the heat of the moment. She takes competition rather seriously. She also feels constantly pressured to emulate the stereotypical "high elf" superiority complex, even though it feels very unnatural to her. It comes off as forces and really makes her seem more awkward than she really is. She's independent, riddled with forced snobbery, and she's very, very confused.
Biography: Nin was born into a filthy stinking rich family of High Elf snobs. Her mother was a well-known socialite among the community (and somehow pulled off being inebriated often), and her father a tax collector with a rather wealthy inheritance.
With one twin dead in the womb and the other born prematurely, Nin immediatly was launched into the life of a spoiled little only child since her parents were too busy and too good to be raising a child. They basically have her whatever she wanted and then shipped her off to the Academy of Arcane Magic to get her out of the house, not even bothering to notice that she had the brain equivalent to that of a High Elf Tesla (only not as stir cray-cray. Or awesome. Or as pigeon-crazed.)
Despite her bratty personality, Nin excelled at school. She found she loved learning and poored herself into experiencing all she could; developing a fondness for Magic and an acute skill that carried her to even higher heights. Her personality and attitude even began to improve somewhat during her stay at the academy, and she almost seemed to... mature.
Alas, good things can't last forever.
Nin completed her five years of independent studies and graduated from the academy a well-learned young elf... And found herself lacking the outlet her vigorous learning once gave her. She reverted almost completely back to her old behavior, personality, and habits practically immediately, finding herself with a small empty void she just didn't know how to fix. She hasn't done anything of peculiar importance since then, namely because it just recently happened.
Misc.: Flaming homosexual. No matter how much she denies it. Because she does. All the time. But she's about as straight as a parabola.
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|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC Fri Feb 27, 2015 9:59 pm|| |
Name: Yuuna Soro
Physical Description: A tall cloaked female figure walks into the lobby, and you guess she stands at about 6'0". You see her sit down nearby, and you hear her ask the bartender for something, but you can't hear what, as you're farther away. As she takes off her hood, you see she has the features of a human, but also has fox ears and a tail, the color of their pelts in the spring and summer.
The female looks at you briefly, a warning glance to say, "Don't get any closer than you are", and you see she has piercing blue eyes, like a husky's. Her hair was a deep shade of brown, and her cloak looked ragged as if it had been torn at the bottom by a fierce creature. A sword hangs from her belt in a sheath. The sheath looks worn, and you stop staring at the blade. (Note: She uses this for self defense, despite her gentle nature.) You look up to see that the humanoid female is wearing a half-sleeved top with a tattered bottom, also looking as if an animal had bitten at the bottom, along with beige pants that went to her knees, almost in perfect condition except for one spot where a hole is. As you scan the cloak again, you see that it is a pure black color, and the hood seems to be outlined with white. She seems to snarl at you lightly for still staring, but you continue to scan her curiously. Her hair, as you now see it closer, is jagged at the bottoms, but still silky and smooth looking all the same.
After the bartender gives her the drink and she finishes, the female gets up and walks to the exit. Before you can say anything, the Fey is already out the door and gone, to your disappointment.
Personality: Yuuna stays quiet almost all the time, sometimes never even saying a word one day, and maybe telling allies tips for fighting the next. She stays solitary and alone when traveling, and isn't very outgoing or social. Yuuna also tends to stay away from large groups of any species but her own, and humans, sticking to herself for company. In battle, it's all tactics for her. Never no thinking before movement. If Yuuna has a specific goal while doing something, she sticks to it and never strays.
History: As many of you know, Fey are a scattered species, but do tend to hang around human civilizations. Yuuna liked to be alone and stay away from any other species besides other Fey and humans that weren't sexist. As a child, she was fascinated by nature and it's beauty, and decided she would try painting it someday. Her parents would always tell her she could never paint the entire landscape of the whole world, but Yuuna believed that with a big enough canvas, she could.
Whenever they would travel through passing towns, Yuuna would be either close to her parents, or a little more towards the back of the group so the other Fey were free of her presence, somewhat. The kitsune-resembling Fey felt without being near them, they could talk freely without her interrupting with her childish questions.
In her later years, as a teen, Yuuna stuck to art while her family and other Fey they traveled with weren't moving through human civilization. She would paint gorgeous landscapes, realistic paintings of other Fey, animals, and many other things that she could find interesting and get down on the canvas. A lot lot of the time she would keep them for herself, and travel with them tied to her back so they didn't fall away or get left behind. Yuuna would sell 50% of her paintings, and keep the other 50%. As you can tell, this built up, and the Fey decided she would only keep her favorites for herself. This way, it was easier for her to travel, and she wouldn't collapse of exhaustion when they reached their destination.
When she turned 20, Yuuna's parents gave her a pet. It was a pure-bred Pit Bull. It's fur was a darker shade of grey, with a white underbelly. Yuuna accepted the dog immediately, pulling it into a hug. The dog didn't seem to care that she was hugging it, but he thought it felt nice. The Fey finally let go, with tears of joy flooding her eyes. All she could utter was, "Th.....Thank you.... he's beautiful." She ended up naming the dog Taji, which meant silver. The Fey thought it was perfect for him.
Now Yuuna and Taji were inseperable. They went everywhere together, and were never apart, not even when they slept. Eventually both of them would settle with wood elves for safety, but they didn't know that yet. One night, Taji had curled up against Yuuna comfortably and he was starting to settle in when he heard a howl. Wolves. Sitting up, Taji nudged Yuuna urgently.
"Huh....? Wha.... What the?" Yuuna woke up groggily, and sat up. Then the howl sounded again. "Oh crap...." The Fey said under her breath. Wolves....... they had to get out of here. Somehow, her paintings didn't matter to her anymore. She scooped up her backpack quickly and shook her parents and other fellow Fey awake, warning them. Soon, the whole camp was up and moving, Taji staying by Yuuna's side protectively. Snarling, the Pitbull pricked up his ears, and the whole group froze. Wolves were running up behind them. Yuuna freaked, and gave Taji a look. Both dog and Fey ran as fast as they could, the rest of the Fey following. Some of the elders were driven down by the faster wolves. There was nothing they could do. The group of Fey were forced to split up and find a safe haven.
Several months later, Yuuna and Taji could finally rest at a human settlement. They couldn't stay long though, as some of the humans thought the duo was suspicious. They set out again soon after, and found safe refuge with wood elves. They greeted them with open arms, and didn't care that Taji was a dog and Yuuna was a Fey.
Several years later, on her 32nd birthday, Yuuna thought she and Taji should find a home for themselves as a present. Saying their last goodbyes to the wood elves, they set off once again, and looked for a safer place to take refuge. Eventually, Yuuna renovated a large, thick, hollow tree for a home, and now lives there with Taji peacefully. Over time, paintings and books have started building up in copious amounts, but she manages to keep tidy. She also gained her fox features from the foxes that were in the woods she lived in.
-Taji is still alive, and lives with Yuuna as a life-long friend, companion, and personal guard.
-Oh yeah.. joke rule. Don't be a potato, because potatoes are extremely healthy, but evil. (By the way, the stove is still on.)
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|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC Mon Mar 02, 2015 4:01 am|| |
Note: The IC thread has begun.
Fox and Hale have been accepted.
Moon and Trace are still under consideration.
All others, please continue to work on your bios. You may enter the RP as you are accepted.
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|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC Mon Mar 02, 2015 6:21 am|| |
Name: Rak "Shadowsteel" Agamek
Physical Description: At 4'7", Rak is just slightly taller than the average dwarf. He's normally covered in a blackened steel armor that covers most of his body when he's traveling, letting his nearly white beard seem to shine like silver while also keeping him prepared for battle. He also keeps his trusty hammer, Magmar (Black Mountain), and double-headed battleaxe, Drakenmarazi (Dragon Cleaver) by his side.
Underneath that armor, Rak is quite a muscular and tanned dwarf thanks to his many years in the burning hot forge. He has sharp, thin eyebrows, hang above his almost perpetually furrowed brow and bright blue eyes. His bushy mustache angles downwards towards his long, braided beard, which ends with three braids tied with small, decorative dragon skull-shaped pieces of bone. The top of his head is bright and shiny like a polished coin, the only hair framing the sides and back just over his ears.
He has several scars across his body due to accidents in the forge, while hunting, or while fighting. His voice is rough and deep, and he will go into a coughing fit occasionally, thanks to all smoke he's breathed from his pipe or in the forge.
When not in his armor, he wears a sleeveless white tunic with a gold trim and a pair of black pants. A black tool belt with a brass belt buckle loops around the tunic, keeping it in line with his pants as well has holding his forging tools. Over this he normally wears a white coat with white fur around the facings, coat tails, and hood, which he normally wears down. The coat's shoulder pads are made of a gold-colored leather with golden frays falling down about an inch. On the back of the coat, his clan's crest is visible, showing a black dragon circling a gray anvil and hammer.
Personality: A lover of his clan, Rak proudly wears his clan's crest, and will quickly silence any who criticize it or those who he calls friend. Years and years of forging tools and weapons and using those tools and weapons have given him great pride in his skill in battle and in the forge. He is also quick to attack and push forward, seeing any hardship as a challenge, and claims all victories in the name of his clan. Rak will boldly announce himself to the enemy, taking on the strongest or all opponents at once.
History: Born into the Kolkarak Throng, or Kolkarak Clan, Rak found himself in a clan devoted to the creation of tools, weaponry, and the advances of such. He was the first son and third child of one of the clan's many blacksmiths, and was quickly apprenticed to his father by the time he was 17. For the next 70 years, Rak was trained in the art of forging "black steel," as his father called it.
While his father had invented the technique that gave iron tools, weapons, and armor a black sheen, Rak was the one who perfected it. Before he had been apprenticed, the black steel was much weaker than normal and only used for decorative purposes, the process by which it was blackened causing the tempering process to be for naught. Like many great inventions, the technique to make it useful was discovered by accident.
Rak was still in the process of learning how to create the decorative pieces, and happened to have added a step without meaning to. After having quenched the metal several times to cool it, the young dwarf placed it back into the flames of the forge, strengthening the metal and counteracting what would have caused it to become brittle.
Not long after, Rak and his family were lifted up from simple clansmen to one of the noble families within the clan. Rak and his father continued to work together, perfecting the process further and further. During this time, the dwarf found himself with a growing family of his own, 4 little dwarves running around as he and his father continued to work.
However, the happiness gained from this would not last forever. Rak's father passed away after an accident in the forge, leaving the body a charred mess. He found himself at a crossroads. He enjoyed forging more than anything, however the death of his father awoke him to the dangers of his line of work. Should he quit or continue? He could not find the answer, so instead he made another. He employed several dwarves to work in his forge, teaching them process by which to make the metal. He created a large surplus of it, and once he was satisfied, the dwarf left. Leaving his clan to journey on his own, hoping to figure out what to do with the rest of his life now that his technique was common knowledge in the clan.
Last edited by Dracorexion on Wed Mar 04, 2015 4:23 am; edited 3 times in total
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|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC Wed Mar 04, 2015 2:59 am|| |
Draco and Trace are accepted. They may begin posting at any time.
Sorry Moon, I'm rejecting your character. At this point, I'm just not sure your writing is where I need to to be right now. Still, keep at it. You've got a lot of talent and that talent has a lot of space to grow and develop. I look forward to seeing you get better and better with time.
At this point, I may accept one or two more characters.
Last edited by Jax on Wed Mar 04, 2015 4:06 pm; edited 1 time in total
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|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC Thu Mar 05, 2015 3:35 am|| |
A door squeaks open slowly as a hand presses lightly against the wood, nearly blending in with the color of the dark wood itself, save for the fingernails, which appeared chipped and gnawed on the edges. A remaining shopkeep lazily glanced upwards at the door, watching as a figure stepped into view.
The first thing one might notice would be her feet as she steps past the door and into view, noticeably not bearing any footwear on them. Even with the skin tone, dirt can still be seen caking the feet, a sign of a traveler who hasn’t bothered to stop for something so arbitrary as washing their feet off. Each step is a dainty one, as she moves lightly over the ground, barely making a sound.
Looking further up, a pair of simple leather pants covers her legs, somewhat tight around the skin but still with a little room to hang and remain comfortable. The dark black leather stands out against her skin tone, as while on the darker side, still isn’t that deep of a hue. Strapped around her right leg is a brown leather sheath, somewhat curved and made of brown leather that’s strapped around her thigh. Sticking out from the sheath is a bronze handle, though it seems to be fairly clean and well taken care of, a sign of a lack of use on its part. Maybe a last resort item?
A black corset begins to be shown from where it’s tucked in under the top of the pants, dirtied and smudges with what seems to be dirt and other forms of foliage. The lacing can be seen to be in the back, which shows easily on the white long sleeved shirt worn underneath it, displaying the same marks as the corset, albeit the dirt more clear to see on a white surface. Over all of this, a red cloak is worn, though it appears to be a much smaller version of the average one, coming to a stop just by her stomach. The edges rise and fall with her arms as she moves them, and the gap between the fabric in front is connected by her neck with a dulled and weaker, thinner looking rope, a sign of age. The edges of the half cloak are somewhat tattered, and strangely enough, tinted with a black scorch in certain parts, as if it had caught fire before. Wonder how that could have happened. Kept strapped to the back of her cloak though, there seems to be an item. It isn’t a weapon, surprisingly enough, but a lyre. The stringed instrument has the typical horseshoe shape with a bar running across the top, and appears to be made of a dark oak wood, with an intricate pattern carved into it.
In all, as one finishes their approximation of the figure, she appears to have a lanky and lithe looking body, especially for her height, standing roughly around 6 feet and 4 inches tall. With every movement she makes being a gentle one, she has a fragile look to her, almost as if she’s afraid to put too much stress on her body.
Coming in to the last part of this examination brings you to her face. The shape of her head is a more circular one, and the expression is a soft one, with no pronounced jaw lines or other such hard areas of the face, all parts being relatively subtle. On her cheeks, about an inch below her eyes are two triangular shapes, a somewhat pink face paint that has been applied. Her face has a youthful look due to all of this, and the complexion is clear as well. Her dark black hair is short and unkempt, like the person doesn’t bother much for taking care of something so insignificant. Although, as the hair falls only about midway down her neck, and the bangs come down just slightly over her eyes, she seems to keep it cut, but only the part that hangs very low. Some singed portions of the hair might provide a reason as to why it’s kept at a short length. Her amber colored eyes look about the shop with an expression of wonder and intrigue, her lips curled into a somewhat naïve looking smile as she wanders about.
Well, whatever, the shop keep figures. As long as she doesn’t cause any damage to his goods, she was fine.
What the shop keep doesn’t know is that he has an Elemental Mage in his midst. An Elemental Mage with a decent amount of raw power, and a rather low amount of control over that power. If only he had deduced it from the singes on her clothing and hair.
And then, as she’s right in the middle of the shopkeeper’s goods, she breathes in to sneeze. And while it doesn’t happen every time, on this particular sneeze, a spark flickers in her finger tips before she finishes.Personality:
An optimist who never lost her childish sense of wonder with the world, Freya is a neutral good soul at heart. Striving to see the good in the world and others occupying it, she can come across as naïve at times, almost hopelessly so. However, this naivety doesn’t make her oblivious. While she wants to see the good, she acknowledges that some things are bad, and isn’t bothered by fighting or being against the bad things in the world. Although modest, she’s a bit of a reckless spirit, and can let her strong emotions get the best of her. She’s trying to learn more discipline, but it hasn’t seemed to stick just yet. This can make her prone to becoming flustered or panicked in situations, and that combined with recklessness doesn’t always turn out well. She’s squeamish when it comes to physical touch, being a frail person, and usually likes to avoid it when she can, even if it’s a simple handshake or gesture of sorts.History:
In the time after the burning of Vendrali, when the Wood Elves were scattered from their home, one of these such groups took to the northwest, heading towards the Grey Wall for shelter. What remained of this group settled by the river valley once they arrived in the mountains, and spent their lives there, adjusting to this new environment. Most became merchants and traders, and often traveled out of the area during the summer seasons to trade with other parts of the known world.
Born to a pair of Merchants, Freya grew up spending most of her life never leaving the river valley that her group called home. Her father was a talented hunter who followed the group’s laws closely, only hunting for need and not out of sport. Her mother was a craftswoman and elemental mage who mainly worked with wood and the pelts Freya’s father would return with. Occasionally, Freya would join her father on a hunt, or stay with her mother as she crafted, but most of her time she spent wandering her surroundings on her own, learning from the land. When she was out wandering, she felt truly at peace, feeling connected to nature.
As she grew older, the young Wood Elf began to discover that she had inherited an affinity for Elemental Magic from her mother, which would go on to cause a few problems. Being a spirited one, Freya had plenty of difficulty focusing and concentrating on controlling herself. She caused a few different small fires in parts of the river valley that were quickly put out, something that did not seem to amuse some of the elder Wood Elves, who still remembered how their ancestors lost their first homes.
Her mother went on to try and teach her more control over herself, one of these ways involved teaching her daughter how to play the lyre, crafting one for Freya herself. In order to play the instrument, it required concentration and control over movements, something she hoped her daughter would learn and apply to her magic. It didn’t solve things, but it was a step in the right direction it seemed.
Having to rely on herself and her mother to teach her how to work with her own magic, Freya continued to live in the area until the age of 36. At this age, in the group, it was customary for Wood Elves in the area to leave their homes and travel the land on a sort of journey or pilgrimage, personal to themselves to explore the world, though it was normally customary for them to visit the scar left from the burning of Vendrali. This journey was suggested in hopes of helping the growing Wood Elves discover if they wished to start traveling the world, or return home and continue living there. Taking the bare essentials with her, Freya said goodbye to her family and left, traveling by foot and by the rare chance of kindness from strangers, stowing away on ships, and other such methods. It has been two years for her, and she still continues to travel the world, undecided on whether to return home or not. Misc:
Rule #420: If any shipping stuff occurs, no matter the genders involved, this picture must be added:
Posts : 441
Poké : 2115
Join date : 2013-04-17
|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC Thu Mar 05, 2015 2:16 pm|| |
Posts : 441
Poké : 2115
Join date : 2013-04-17
|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC Fri Mar 06, 2015 9:51 pm|| |
Tommy is accepted. No more characters will be accepted in the foreseeable future.
However, if someone were to make a bio that impressed me, I may let them in.
|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC Thu Mar 12, 2015 1:18 am|| |
Are we still wanting to do this roleplay? It has fallen silent recently so I'm hesitant of introducing my character if there isn't any story to be written anymore...
|Subject: Re: Third Age OOC || |
Third Age OOC
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