A Whole Packet Of Crumpets

[CrumpetCannon]

Alternate Title: Graveyard Of Characters Crumpet Never Characterised Properly Because He's An Inept, Lazy Arsehole. Join Him As He Languishes In Self Pity.

About time I made one of these. I'll add my past characters to it gradually along with any new ones I dream up for future roleplays, and will no doubt forget over half of them
If you're looking for originality in the characters I post, you're in the wrong bio thread



Narodziny Źycia

"You know I like to work in the dark"

As far as my drug addled memory banks can tell, this synthetic scientist with the brightest dark secret I know was the focus of my first ever character sheet. Made for my very ill-fated roleplay The Pillars of Creation (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=40692), which was my first roleplay on this site, Narodziny was an interesting character to play and something of an experimental first step into the world of roleplaying for me.
I often look back on that very first roleplay of mine (which fizzled out of existence shortly after its conception, looking back on it I can't say I'm surprised) with some sense of sadness, I'm not usually one to get attached to the things I create, but it was my very first, and I would have loved to explore Narodziny further.
Just writing this has got me all nostalgic, reminding me of how everyone on this site was so welcome and supportive. This character and the roleplay from which he was borne will always hold a special place in my memories, and I would love nothing more than to reboot the whole thing, breathe new life into it and really give Narodziny the characterisation I feel he deserves.

Maybe someday.

Name: Narodziny życia

Faction: The Protax

Title: 'High Mentor', and 'Overseer of The LifeBlood Sciences'

Appearance: A typical male Protax, Narodziny stands at 6 feet 6 inches, and resembles a human, his brilliant silver eyes and lack of hair are the only things that identify him as a synthetic.

Personality: An extremely intelligent and gifted individual, Narodziny is a wise and calculating leader as well as a staunch believer in a good work ethic and attitude. Often seen reading or tinkering with machinery, Narodziny is kind hearted and hopes to never use his weapons for the purpose of harming a biological creature.

Background: Narodziny is a highly respected teacher among his people, and is the most decorated scientist within his branch of the expansive Protax scientific industry, he is the head of the 'LifeBlood' division, which focuses on the study of life, life origins, and life forces through blood.

Weapons: Narodziny is equipped with the standard Protax sidearm, the 'N3W-22', it fires an accurate bolt of energy that can stun or kill. Narodziny also carries an experimental launcher that will transmit lethal doses of radiation to any living thing it hits.

Name of ship: 'The Tset'


http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XNdj45XDmWs/T-qQcGhHi-I/AAAAAAAAAgI/gYQK4kWj-hY/s1600/20120625_spaceship_01s.jpg

A lightweight, streamlined vessel used for scientific observation, has room sufficient for a crew of 20, The Tset is equipped with the latest research equipment and biological weaponry, capable of firing shells loaded with everything from slow poisons to deadly fast acting diseases and venoms.

[CrumpetCannon]

Krûntim

"I feel that on this day all the hard work shall finally come to fruition. Today is the day I become a rider"

http://i.imgur.com/zItWpBrh.jpg

After coming up with my second roleplay, Eragon: Sundavar Thelduin (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=45883), I deliberated for days which of Alagaesia's many varied races I should choose as my own.
A human is much too vanilla, and pretty much everyone who joined the RP played a human. No good.
An elf? Too perfect, Paolini is a good author but he falls short when it comes to giving his races flaws with which to explore their journey. No good.
One of the Dwarves? Much more interesting but overall too predictable and set in stone (har har) to write well. No good.
An Urgal. The race that Paolini characterised the least, we know so little about them, other than their interesting social structure and lust for combat. It was the obvious choice, as I would mould the character in any way I saw fit and still have it within the bounds of the Inheritance Cycle. I could truly explore the race for what I saw it as, an honourable peoples with an unlucky habit of being misunderstood.
Krûntim would have been quite a welcome exercise outside of the usual cookie-cutter human character that's always prevalent in roleplays featuring multiple races, had the roleplay progressed at all past the preliminary stages (are you starting to see a theme of my roleplays dying early here?). It always astounded me how many people would opt to be boring old humans when there was such variety to choose from.

This is another roleplay I'd like to revive at some point, as the original incarnation started to go in a direction I did not favour, and I abandoned it outright.

Name: Krûntim

Age: 36

Race: Urgal

http://i.imgur.com/zItWpBrh.jpg

Residence: A permanently settled tribe within the Spine mountains.

Personality: Krûntim is not afraid to let his intentions show, if he has something to say, he will say it, if he does not, he will not. He is straightforward incarnate, and is loathe to dance around a subject that has a clear answer.
Popularity in his home village has made him as sociable as any human, although he is discerning about the company he keeps, and only warms to those who are not afraid to act when called upon, and are up to the sizeable task of meeting his forward thinking attitude with their own.
Although partial to the physical side of problem solving, Krûntim enjoys testing his mind as well as his physique, and frequently engages in games of riddles and dice with like-minded participants. Like all urgals, he has a deep and well-practiced sense of honour.
Many humans and dwarves mistake his gruff and slightly aloof way of thinking as outright abrasiveness, proving that there is much more to the seemingly simple urgal than they could ever know.

Bio: From the time his horns first started to show, Krûntim has been an unflinching force on both the battlefield and in the chieftain's tent, he is a master tactician as well as an accomplished and unrivalled warrior, which has lead to him gaining great respect from urgals even outside of his home tribe.
Although he is not the village's chieftain nor a kull, Krûntim has proven his worth to his tribe by contributing much to its upkeep, his hunting trips are bountiful, and his journeys into hostile lands are successful and often spoken of with much admiration around his tribe's nightly fire.
Krûntim is close to his chieftain, and something of a hero in the eyes of his tribe, which is why he is one of the few sent by the tribe to HammerHold to vie for the chance of bonding with a young dragon.

[CrumpetCannon]

Kolec

"I am Krûntim, and this." He retrieved a smoky purple egg from an unseen table. "Is my dragon."

http://i.imgur.com/tGWx9bf.jpg

And here we have a character that never existed. My Eragon (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=45883) roleplay did not rely on character sheets for the dragons, as it began with their birth and I left it up to the writers to flesh out their scaly babies in a more fluid way, characterising them over days and weeks.
Of course that never happened because the universe is cruel, so here is a rough character sheet interpretation of how Krûntim's smoky purple Bjartskular would have eventually turned out. It goes without saying that this sheet does her a disservice, of course I'll keep her true literary plan close to my heart until I find sufficient motivation to revive Sundavar Thelduin.

Name: Kolec

Gender: Female

Race: Dragon

Appearance: As an urgal-bonded dragon, Kolec is far larger than her human and elven born kin, with a massive wingspan and a thick tail dotted with deadly spines and sharpened scales. She is far more bestial than most, with slit pupils set within brilliant amethyst eyes that stay glued to any potential threat with hawklike attention and catlike intelligence.
Her rough but beautiful scales shine within the varied purple spectrum, her wing membranes are akin to lavender while her main body is a smoky shade of royal purple. Around her forelegs and eyes the scales are almost black, just as her talons and spines are.
Urgal 'heritage' has ensured that her legs are thick with muscle and armoured scale, with backwards facing barbs running from her paws to her elbows, making it easier to climb sheer rock faces and even gouge through stone. The metre long spires that jut from her back, head and tail are serrated much like the teeth of sharks.

Personality: As with all dragons, Kolec is proud and regal, with an innate wisdom that grants her an air of deadly intelligence. By bonding with an urgal and spending time with her rider Krûntim, she has been instilled with an incredibly deep sense of honour which -exacerbated by her draconic nature is beyond that of even the urgal race, she hates to fight an unequal opponent and refuses to take her prey by surprise.
An inborn anger burns brightly within Kolec's chest, not wild and untamed as one would expect, but deadly and directed only to those who deserve it by a precise mind which understands the consequences of outbursts the way only a dragon can. Hardly taciturn, Kolec reflects the mindset of her soul partner, speaking her mind when appropriate and using her razor wit to bend the perceptions of others. Few can keep up with her in conversation, and even fewer can face her in debate.

Voice: Like the sound of a waterfall cascading onto smooth rocks, Kolec's mental voice is melodic yet powerful and commanding, carrying a threat more ancient than language itself. Her dangerous, primal growl even spurs her fellow dragons to hold their tongues.

[CrumpetCannon]

Myself. Josh Warburton. Me

"Now if you wouldn't mind telling me what the almighty fuck you're doing alive, in a bloody ice-cream truck of all places."

RPApocalypse (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=49949) was an interesting writing exercise for me, you see, we weren't playing characters dreamt up by the scary creative nuggets of our brain, but ourselves. Yes, we had to write ourselves into the roleplay and try to keep it realistic. You'll be happy to know that within a week of writing we were leaping off walls and synthesising powerful drugs, snapping head shots with one hand while lifting cars with the other. Realism, everybody.
This character sheet has three variations, one for the first instalment in RPApocalypse, wherein I played a short-lived cook and not much else, and a second variation for the sequel, RPApocalypse Resurrection (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=51901), wherein I played a humble scavenger who rather suddenly became a vengeful amputee before even more swiftly slipping into the role of pretty much the main villain of the roleplay, complete with blade arm and a gothic church hideout.
In the third iteration: RPApocalypse: Reborn (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=67172) I played an even lesser role than the first, because it didn't last long enough for me to do anything but, like, kill a coyote or something. I don't know, I don't remember shit about the third one, other than that velociraptors are, like, the coolest shit yo.

Username: CrumpetCannon

Preferred nickname(s):
- Crumpie
- Crumpexus Crumpimus Cannonidius, Crumpetmander of the Armies of the Toaster, General of the Buttered Legions and loyal servant to the true breakfast: crumpets and OJ. Snack to a satisfied son, meal to a satisfied wife. And I will have my breakfast, in this packet or the next.
- Josh

Age: 16

Picture/Description of yourself: I stand at approximately 5 feet seven inches, with a lean build virtually devoid of body fat, giving me the impression of having respectable abdominal muscles and biceps (they're all false, I'm as sturdy as an upright sleeping bag full of water balloons). My face is angular and rarely expresses emotion, my nose is awkward, my eyebrows are obnoxious, there are permanent lines beneath my eyes that show years of sleep deprivation. I'd get cosmetic facial surgery at the drop of a hat, is what I'm saying.
My hair is long, stupidly long, I'm talking beneath the shoulders long, I like to pretend that it's still blond, but it has gotten steadily browner with age.

Personality in 5 words: "Pretentious funny cunt, bar none" (For maximum accuracy, I asked someone else to sum me up in five words. I am both pleased with and offended by the outcome)

Preferred Role: Scavenger.

Weapon of Choice: Wit, and the ability to slap in a masculine way.

Reaction to finding a dead RPA citizen: Silently stare with no expression while loudly dying inside.


* * *

Username: CrumpetCannon

Preferred nickname(s):
Crumpie
John Cleese's teen years
Josh



Age: 16

Picture/Description of yourself: I stand at approximately 5 feet seven inches, with a lean build virtually devoid of body fat, giving me the impression of having respectable abdominal muscles and biceps (they're all false, I'm as sturdy as an upright sleeping bag full of water balloons). My face is angular and rarely expresses emotion, my nose is awkward, my eyebrows are obnoxious, there are permanent lines beneath my eyes that show years of sleep deprivation. I'd get cosmetic facial surgery at the drop of a hat, is what I'm saying.
My hair is long, stupidly long, I'm talking beneath the shoulders long, I like to pretend that it's still blond, but it has gotten steadily browner with age.

Personality in 5 words: Cynical, calculating, quiet, witty, callous

Status: Veteran, sorta.

Side: East

Preferred Role: Scavenger

Weapon of Choice: Wit, and the ability to slap in a masculine way. Also a Swiss Army knife and the talent of making people underestimate me long enough to surprise shank them so many times in the head I can turn them upside down and use them as a watering can.

Reaction to finding a dead RPA citizen: "This was probably for the best. Most of us would envy you."


* * *

Username: CrumpetCannon

Preferred nicknames:
Big Ol' Buttery Bastard
Cthulhu's Groupie
Josh



Age: 17

Picture/Description of yourself: I stand at approximately 5 feet 8 inches, with a lean build virtually devoid of body fat, giving me the impression of having respectable abdominal muscles and biceps (they're all false, I'm as sturdy as an upright sleeping bag full of water balloons). My eyebrows are monstrous expressive enough that they do 90% of the talking for me, and often hold me hostage because they're like Snake's wig in that one Treehouse of Horror. The lines under my eyes are so prominent I might as well get them tattooed over so that I'll always remember those ten solid years of sleep deprivation.
After a brief and unique period of sanity I lopped my man mane off, so my hair is now barely shoulder length. I'm told it makes me look like that one genius guy from Criminal Minds that all the women love, only I'm not at all attractive or intelligent.

Personality: I'm cynical enough to come across as an asshole, but empathic enough to be good with people despite my asshole status. I usually stay quiet and prefer to listen unless the subject at hand is important or relevant, as such you'll notice that I become very talkative about things that matter to me or to the people I care about (like my favourite movies, I could talk about them for hours. See, you're already getting to know me!)
I'm the witty one in my group of friends, so either I'm funny or my friends are so inept that I look hilarious by comparison (actually that's probably it, 4chan colloquialisms make up the extent of their sense of humour).

Status: Veteran (hey now, the sequel wasn't so bad! Except for the 13 year olds brewing drugs... and the questionable torture... and the Empire State Building collapsing because of reasons... and the cyborg, oh god the cyborg)

Skills: A few years worth of handling firearms has given me some rudimentary skill with ones that aren't military grade laser-guided hand cannons with cup holders, and the most important thing I gained from such experience is knowledge of proper safety techniques.
In addition to that, I can cook, the most important combat skill of all.
I'm a very good rock climber, I can't believe I didn't mention it in the last two RPApocalypses, because I scale shit like Spiderman without the costume and with only half the snarkiness.
I can debate with the best of them, not that it ever helps because I always just resort to insults and violence anyway.
I can draw, which will no doubt help when the monsters kidnap us and hold an art competition to earn our right to live. I'm sure that'll happen so I'll keep a pencil ready.

http://i.imgur.com/ro1CBNDh.jpg
Alright you primitive screwheads, listen up. See this? This is my [B]Boomstick! It's a 12 gauge double barrel Remington*, S-Mart's top of the line, you can find this in the sporting goods department. That's right, this sweet baby was made in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Retails for about $109.95, it's got a walnut stock, cobalt blue steel and a hair trigger. That's right, shop smart, shop S-Mart.

*But as a militant Evil Dead fan, I have to inform you that the gun held by Ash in the picture above is actually a Stoeger, not a Remington. Regardless, it's what my gun looks like.

http://a.tgcdn.net/images/products/additional/large/129c_m48_long_handle_tactical_survival_series_inse t3.jpg
There are few things more useful than a good axe. Hacking with one of these nasty bastards is far more damaging than slicing or thrusting with a sword, and as anyone with my degree of fondness for this kind of weapon will tell you, it's ideal for going up against any other kind of melee weapon. It also doubles as a survival weapon, because who hasn't needed to cut aside a pesky obstacle or amputate a limb in the apocalypse?

Short History: When it comes to why I was in America when the apocalypse hit, your guess is as good as mine, maybe I wanted to see what it was like to be in a country where everyone hates free healthcare and the letter 'u'.
Rest assured I was probably rather miffed about it.

Other: Don't expose me to sunlight, it'll kill me. Don't get me wet. Don't feed me after midnight.

[Lukasade]

About time I made one of these. I'll add my past characters to it gradually along with any new ones I dream up for future roleplays, and will no doubt forget over half of them
If you're looking for originality in the characters I post, you're in the wrong bio thread



Narodziny Źycia

"You know I like to work in the dark"

As far as my drug addled memory banks can tell, this synthetic scientist with the brightest dark secret I know was the focus of my first ever character sheet. Made for my very ill-fated roleplay The Pillars of Creation (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=40692), which was my first roleplay on this site, Narodziny was an interesting character to play and something of an experimental first step into the world of roleplaying for me.
I often look back on that very first roleplay of mine (which fizzled out of existence shortly after its conception, looking back on it I can't say I'm surprised) with some sense of sadness, I'm not usually one to get attached to the things I create, but it was my very first, and I would have loved to explore Narodziny further.
Just writing this has got me all nostalgic, reminding me of how everyone on this site was so welcome and supportive. This character and the roleplay from which he was borne will always hold a special place in my memories, and I would love nothing more than to reboot the whole thing, breathe new life into it and really give Narodziny the characterisation I feel he deserves.

Maybe someday.

Name: Narodziny życia

Faction: The Protax

Title: 'High Mentor', and 'Overseer of The LifeBlood Sciences'

Appearance: A typical male Protax, Narodziny stands at 6 feet 6 inches, and resembles a human, his brilliant silver eyes and lack of hair are the only things that identify him as a synthetic.

Personality: An extremely intelligent and gifted individual, Narodziny is a wise and calculating leader as well as a staunch believer in a good work ethic and attitude. Often seen reading or tinkering with machinery, Narodziny is kind hearted and hopes to never use his weapons for the purpose of harming a biological creature.

Background: Narodziny is a highly respected teacher among his people, and is the most decorated scientist within his branch of the expansive Protax scientific industry, he is the head of the 'LifeBlood' division, which focuses on the study of life, life origins, and life forces through blood.

Weapons: Narodziny is equipped with the standard Protax sidearm, the 'N3W-22', it fires an accurate bolt of energy that can stun or kill. Narodziny also carries an experimental launcher that will transmit lethal doses of radiation to any living thing it hits.

Name of ship: 'The Tset'


http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XNdj45XDmWs/T-qQcGhHi-I/AAAAAAAAAgI/gYQK4kWj-hY/s1600/20120625_spaceship_01s.jpg

A lightweight, streamlined vessel used for scientific observation, has room sufficient for a crew of 20, The Tset is equipped with the latest research equipment and biological weaponry, capable of firing shells loaded with everything from slow poisons to deadly fast acting diseases and venoms.


I'm up for it, Kirk will probably be up for it and no doubt Jake as well. The only problem you will have on that front is getting Mo back on here with his useless paragraphs of meta-dribble.

Pulling my ship apart in one post... the cheek of it.

[CrumpetCannon]

Now now, Mo is a fine writer, he just needed some clarification on what is and isn't godmodding. It's quite easy to see how someone who is new to Roleplaying can make that mistake, I can assure you he simply viewed it as a writing exercise more than a multiplayer game played with words.

As for getting everybody together, I'm sure Mo and perhaps even Ross would come back with little provocation. I'd intend to make it much more open if I ever revive it though, allowing more than just several players to join up.




Fezzik Lozier

"You trout-faced cockshiner!"

Let me start this entry by professing my hatred of The Hunger Games. It's trash, badly written teen fiction that was developed into an awful movie that was painful to watch. I view the entire thing and its bafflingly large fanbase the same way I view the Twilight Saga.
That said, Death of Korzan is a more than capable GM, and although the source material is unapologetic garbage, the prospect of having a bunch of stupidly named teens kill each other with sticks while chewing on pine cones to stay sane was hard to resist. If anything, it would allow me to stretch my creative muscles, especially in the angsty teen areas of literary pursuit.
So this is 76th Annual Hunger Games (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=45672) tribute Fezzik Lozier, who takes his first name from the wonderful Fezzik the Giant, played by the always missed and never forgotten Andre 'The Giant' Roussimoff, from the timeless Princess Bride (an astonishingly superior film).
Just how exactly does experience in decorating cakes allow you to paint photorealistic wood and stone camouflage on human skin!? Fuck this entire franchise.

Name: Fezzik Lozier
Age: 16
Gender: Male
District: 4

Description: Tall and thin, with strong arms, shoulders and legs conditioned from a lifetime of labour intensive fishing. With dirty blonde hair that sits like a birds nest upon his head above a pair of dull blue eyes. Formative facial hair already spreads across his face, and his body is marked with a plethora of scars that tell of accidents with fish hooks and harpoons.

Background: Raised alongside four brothers, his entire childhood has been one long fight for dominance, while not the runt of the litter, he is not as strong or fit as his rivals. His formative years were spent spearing fish and sparring with other children with de-bladed harpoons and tridents, giving him a proficiency with long weapons that -although he doesn't know it yet- will give him an edge in the upcoming Games. A natural swimmer, he can remain underwater for extended periods of time, and can stalk aquatic prey for miles.
Although he has a hateful view of the oppressive Capitol and government, he believes that any efforts to oppose them are futile, and is resigned to a lifetime of obedience.

Skills:
Strength: 3
Agility: 3
Intelligence: 3
Tracking: 4
Climbing: 0
Building: 0
Cardio (How far and fast you can run): 3
Vigilance (How hard you are to sneak up on): 3
Survival Skills: 2
Conditioning (How long you can go without food and water): 2
Resistance (How Resistant you are to illness, infection, poison and venom): 2
Crafting (Essentially the same skill as building but regarding weapons, poisons, healing salves): 0

Weapon Choices:
1. Trident

2. Hunting Knife

[CrumpetCannon]

Alaherandin

"I am old, older than most of the ancient trees and older than most of the knowledge in this world, old enough to have seen the births and deaths of entire races and land masses, such massive passing of time has left me with more than enough decades to question our existence on this world, to question if there was, truly, any other way."

Dreamt up for the wonderfully creative Of Gods, Legends and Myths (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=46599), Alaherandin is a Slaver King who rules over his kingdom with an iron fist and a bullwhip. Hardly characterised at all, he didn't see much "screen" time, although I greatly enjoyed writing him, a man who was born to be naturally evil, at least in the eyes of modern humanity. That's what makes Alaherandin interesting as a character, he is not a cognitively bad man, he was literally created to be the perfect slaver, he knows nothing else but dominance and expects nothing less than servitude.
He would later appear alongside his progeny Ashimar in the sequel.

Name: Alaherandin

Age: Born as a man in his third decade

Appearance: The first human is worthy of the title, his limbs are thick, with a long reach, and he stands taller than most, with flat eyes and narrow mouth whose gaze and words all lesser men fear. His skin is a lighter shade than his father's, a lush caramel that catches the everlasting glow of Sol beautifully, making his hide glisten and ripple in the evening light.
Alaherandin's hair is dark, the purest brown, and it hangs around his shoulders, framing his terrible face and enhancing his terrible and unspoken authority.

Gender: Male

Immortal Parent/Mortal Parent: Stalagithus; God of Earth and Slavery

Power: His divine father's command over the earth has carried over somewhat, and Alaherandin shares an affinity with the sand, soil, and rock of the world. He possesses the persistence of the sand, the fertility of the soil, and the endurance of the rock: he will live for twice the human lifespan, his bloodline will remain strong, and his will and skin are as stone; stalwart eternal.

[CrumpetCannon]

Ashimar

"You speak of our way of life, father, as if there is any other way."

The son of Alaherandin and the Demi-God descendent of Stalagithus the Earthen God, Ashimar is the next in line to the throne of the Slaver King. Tales of Nevirre: The Shard War (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=54799) was the literary world that he occupied.
Virtually the same as his father in terms of personality, Ashimar is a perfect image of a future king of exploitation and suffering. He thinks himself up to the task and looks forward to the day when he might sit upon the throne, but his royal father has gained insight with age, and questions the moral crime of raising his son specifically for the purpose of ruling over a kingdom of slaves.
The dynamic between Ashimar and his wary father was interesting to map out, their genetic similarities and glaring differences made them the perfect foils.

Name: Ashimar

Current Age: 29

Godly Parent: Stalagithus

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance: Ashimar exceeds every limit imaginable; he is even taller and more broad than his father Alaherandin, with arms thicker than any living mortal, and legs powerful enough to carry his own weight and more across any desert. Physically perfect, Ashimar is the living embodiment of human superiority and favour in the eyes of their patron God Stalagithus, his face is finely sculpted and his dark eyes are alert and unflinching, lesser men cow away from his imposing voice, surprisingly smooth and honeyed yet more commanding and entitled than any creature living or dead. His magnificent caramel skin is typical of Nevirre's human population, yet he wears the hide with such grace and poise that he appears starkly different to most others of his race.
Fine cornrows snake across his head, near black hair continuing along in expertly woven braids to rest between his shoulders or drape, tucked behind his ears, a few of these braids are interwoven with pieces of delicately carved wood or fine jewels, connoting his status as a member of the Earthen God's mortal bloodline.

Divine Trait: His divine ancestor's command over the earth has carried over somewhat, and Ashimar shares an affinity with the sand, soil, and rock of the world. He possesses the persistence of the sand, the fertility of the soil, and the endurance of the rock: he will live for twice the human lifespan, his bloodline will remain strong and bountiful, and his will and skin are as stone; stalwart eternal.

Bio: From a young age Ashimar was showered with academic and physical tutelage the likes of which had never before been bestowed on a mortal, his father Alaherandin wanted an heir worthy of the Kingdom of Man, and his divine blood fathered an exceptional child with an insatiable appetite for knowledge and influence.
Young, strong and intelligent, Ashimar is the perfect heir and the perfect son in his father's eyes, he was instilled with his father's desire for leadership, as well as the royal attitude towards slaves and their purpose in this world.
As an adult, the Divine Prince is an unflinching leader and shrewd politician, with a seemingly genetic grasp on tactics both on the battlefield and in the royal courts, years spent on the top rung of the ladder that is the Slave City have honed a terrifyingly efficient whip arm, and Ashimar's quick grasp on the concepts and execution of precise, ordered cruelty surprised no one.

[CrumpetCannon]

Xel'lotath

"Now, you're going to feel a little prick, and the sensation of being a teeny bit violated"

http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2013/156/a/5/random_prothean_guy_by_purposefullyawesome-d67vrva.png

Adding to the list of characters that I love and that never got the attention they deserved, we have Xel'lotath, a cheery bugger if there ever was one.
When Death of Korzan first asked me if I wanted to be a part of his promising Mass Effect: The Crucible (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=48425), I was skeptical. I had never played Mass Effect before and didn't exactly have the time to blitz through it, instead I flocked to the Mass Effect wiki, where I absorbed all the delicious lore I could hold and decided that yes, I would take part.
Right from the start, I wanted a Prothean character, they were interesting and talked funny, and I'd essentially be playing myself, an alien (to the franchise) who is unfamiliar with the universe he has found himself in. It was the perfect opportunity to introduce myself to such a rich fictional world. His name was totally lifted from Eternal Darkness, which is a great game that everyone should play.

I have since tried playing Mass Effect 1 and 2, and have found that I much prefer Dragon Age.

Name: Xel'lotath

Race: Prothean

Age: 48

Gender: Male

Personality: An extremely curious individual, Xel'lotath often goes out of his way to unlock the secret workings and potential of everything he encounters, from an interesting piece of technology to a stubborn human, he loves to discover and learn everything there is to know, often taking apart and rebuilding weaponry or dissecting interesting specimens and taking notes on the behaviour of different species.
This has carried on to his social life, and so he is a remarkably friendly person, some would say too friendly, he is always eager to forger new relationships, whether for scientific purposes or just because he likes someone, he is talkative, but not loud, and is content to sit and listen, depending on the subject of his fascination. He and everyone he meets realise this will inevitably get him into trouble some day. While machinery and engineering is certainly a hobby of Xel'lotath's, his real talent and passion lies in medicine, he is a developed combat medic, able to perform advanced healing and surgery on or off the battlefield, his innate Prothean ability to exchange knowledge and experiences through touch bolstering his healing capabilities to near legendary levels.
Xel'lotath's past is something he keeps under lock and key behind his optimistic carapace, he is loath to speak of his past experiences and of why he is reluctant to hold a gun, most people he is close to know by now not to bring up the topic at all.

Description: Xel'lotath looks like an average Prothean male with a muted purple shade to the carapace on his head and brilliant amber eyes, his skin has a grey lavender colouring to it and his lips and ridged neck are a dull scarlet. His appearance can be unsettling to some, what with Protheans being such a rarity throughout the galaxy, but people soon learn that his appearance does not match his sparkling demeanour.
http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/134/d/a/doodlyboos_by_purposefullyawesome-d65bu46.png
Xel'lotath is outfitted with military grade medical armour, specialised for rapid attention to wounds on the battlefield. This armour is white with red markings, identifying it as medic garb from a distance, while it does not have the damage reduction quality of most specialised combat armours, it can stop a bullet and provide ample protection from danger with its advanced militarised polymer base and tempered carbon coating. The armour comes equipped with a variety of satchels and compartments which house a plethora of medical supplies including medi-gel, syringes, bandages and sutures for standard to advanced field dressing, as well as monitors and sample analysers for use in diagnosis on the go.
http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2013/109/1/c/armour_suit_design_of_the_royal_army_medical_corps _by_robbiemcsweeney-d6295p7.jpg

Biotic or Tech: Tech - Engineer [medic specialisation]

Abilities:
Overload - Causes enemy shields, barriers, and synthetics to shut down, and can overheat the weapons of certain enemies, rendering them useless.

First Aid - Subject has an increased knowledge of anatomy and healing procedures, increases the effectiveness of medi-gel and other techniques.

Neural Shock - An assault on the nervous system shuts down the axons of an organic enemy, thereby preventing impulse diffusion between synapses, paralysing them temporarily. [Bolstered by medic specialisation]

[B]Weaponry: Stinger Pistol, Omni-tool

Location: Prothean colony orbiting Elatania

It seems the original description image was deleted from Deviantart, this irks me.

[CrumpetCannon]

Arlus Aerellyn

http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2011/341/e/7/flame_mage_by_kerembeyit-d4if5a9.jpg

Not much to say about this one. The Dragon Age (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=53147) roleplay I threw him towards never even started, but unlike a lot of my under-utilised characters in this thread I don't really care enough about him to mourn the chances of characterising him. The demon angle might have been interesting, despite the thing's unforgivably ridiculous name.
Perhaps I'll just use him in the next magic centred roleplay that interests me, more to save myself time than to actually explore him as a character.

Name: Arlus Aerellyn

Age: 51

Race: Elf

http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2011/341/e/7/flame_mage_by_kerembeyit-d4if5a9.jpg

Class: Mage

"Pets": Arlus has made the company of a Demon of Sloth, with whom he communes for the answers to questions and riddles that faded into oblivion aeons ago, the Demon's aid is more valuable than gold, and the price of Arlus' desire for knowledge is the gradual degradation of his most mortal faculties. Soon it may take his life.
http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/211/0/3/mohawk_by_stillenacht-d6fyklt.jpg

Specialty skills: Near mastery of most offensive magics, especially the manipulation of fire ; A shrewd negotiator and tactician ; Advanced understanding of potions, poisons and all alchemical pursuits.

Background: Like all Circle Magi, Arlus was abducted from his parent's embrace at a very young age to be tutored under the watchful eyes of the elders, this existence was not one that the young elf welcomed, and after several failed escape attempts cost him many privileges, one of the senior tutors took Arlus under his wing to personally coax the child into harnessing his clear potential.

Years later, Arlus had progressed exponentially under the direct tutelage of the patient Mage Brenning, who had become an adequate father figure to Arlus and had allowed him many freedoms, including unlimited access to the more restricted sections of the Tower Library, which Arlus pored through with great interest, learning of long forgotten or long forbidden magicks.

Regardless of his affection towards Brenning, Arlus still held a deeply embedded contempt for the Circle and its ways, and sought out any chance to aggravate the elders or disrupt proceedings, he was careful to cover his tracks, and for many years it seemed as if the Tower was simply having a run of terribly bad luck. It was when Arlus was out of the Tower on official business that he learned of the Circle's ultimate treachery, Brenning had been pressured into conducting a magical experiment within the Fade which he had previously condemned as far too dangerous, his words went unneeded, and the result was his own death as well as the deaths of nearly a dozen junior Mages.
Blinded by rage, Arlus returned to the Tower, slaughtering one of the elders who had ordered the experiment, before fleeing into the wilderness and finally renouncing the Circle's claim upon him, becoming a roaming Apostate fugitive.

Equipment: A garment of hardened leather and magically bolstered natural material which provides protection from offensive magic as well as physical protection roughly equal to cured leather or simple plate armour. A satchel fully stocked with advanced alchemical ingredients and equipment for portable potion crafting.

[Lukasade]

I have since tried playing Mass Effect 1 and 2, and have found that I much prefer Dragon Age.



Boooooo.

[Woz]

Why did I just read all of this?

You're to blame, Crumptonius Maximus.

[CrumpetCannon]

Because my writings are laced with the effluvial influence of the Old Gods, Wozmodus, and the ebbing tide of the river between this world and Theirs attracts the hearts of mortal men like buzzing flies to a spider's enthralling web.

Been watching too much Eternal Darkness.

[Woz]

Kind of like my effluvial middle finger protruding from my fist?

[CrumpetCannon]

Just like that! Only with more macabre, penetrative intentions.

The Old Gods are big on penetration, must be an absence of interesting things to do in the dark places between dimensions, where only dreams may go.

[CrumpetCannon]

Isaac Donning Clemente

"Very well, let them know that I will be in attendance and will strive to address their concerns. This is going to be a long one, Fenchurch. Make sure there's enough cigars around the table to kill a small developing country."

http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/025/1/e/1e71dfb26219a9cd12c5feb573310578-d5smwxa.jpg

There's an ongoing series of roleplays that don't quite get the recognition they deserve on here, they share the name Eternum (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=51804), and are fully realised epics in every sense of the word.
With a cast of dedicated and exceptionally talented writers and a more than capable GM to oversee the development of his unique universe, the plans to publish it as a series of books are wholly justified. Death of Korzan approached me with an offer to play a part in the second book: Blood of The Gods, he wanted me to contribute to his finely sculpted world, and that's why I rather hate myself right now for having posted so few times in the IC that my long absences from the project have bordered on parody.
Eternum, it's many esteemed contributors and I, the other guy, return in Eternum: Rise of Kronos (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=71191), another dynamic example of Crumpet's eternal writer's block. The current sheet is the revised one detailing some of the events from Blood Of The Gods, and with some replacements for now defunct image links.

Name: Admiral Isaac Donning Clemente

Age: 37 [DOB 1694]

Race: French-English


http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/025/1/e/1e71dfb26219a9cd12c5feb573310578-d5smwxa.jpg

Clemente is a man of once fine features tempered by years of work and sea. His face bears telling lines at the cheekbones and the brow, and his eyes are like the sea that he sails upon: calm and turquoise blue, but prone to flashing harshly dark and critical at any time. His beard and moustache are somewhat unkempt at sea. It is somewhat frowned upon for a naval officer to have an unshaven face, but Clemente regards it as a matter of principles, and no one has cared to argue thus far.
His swiftly greying hair is usually hidden underneath his white powder wig which, much to his chagrin, is compulsory garb for an admiral, he often takes it off while out at sea, and the crew know better than to let word of that stray outside the ship.

Personality: A man of the people, Clemente has grown accustomed to positions of power and influence over the years, and is more than qualified to lead anything from a rag-tag group of disorganised young sailers to a fleet comprised of ten-dozen ships and their respective crews. He is respected and emulated by his subordinates and a fair few of his superiors for his penchant for leadership and morale boosting panache. Naturally, Clemente is charismatic to the point of flamboyance, gaining the trust of any crew or board of nobles that stands before him with a flair for speeches and just the right amount of overconfidence.
Clemente would never have been elevated to the rank of Admiral of the Fleet, however, if he did not also have the ability to switch from jovial to commanding and disciplinary in a heartbeat. His tongue and cutting wit are feared across the Caribbean for their potency, and he is more than capable of reigning in a misconducting crew and administer proper military stoicism when the situation warrants.

Outside of the gaze of his crew and his superior officers, Clemente manages a fairly normal social life and way of speaking: not too posh, not too common, with an open mind for such things as religion, culture and language. He is eager to meet with those from far-off lands, whether they be entitled emissaries or humble travellers. Although the Admiral enjoys a bit of cynicism and debate, he does love a simple chat with friends and strangers alike, possibly over some tea with brandy - or perhaps a good book. He has a large collection of his own back at his estate in Port Royal, but he limits himself to a handful of hardbacks when out at sea, with which he is content.

Every hero has a weakness, however, and for Clemente, it is his love for the bottle. A struggling alcoholic, Clemente must strain desperately against his addiction and work to keep his crippling desire for drink under wraps and away from the eyes of his crew and his commanders, for fear of dishonourable discharge and the slander of his family name. He keeps a small bottle of whiskey in his quarters aboard his ship, which he convinces himself is only for special occasions. Lately, he has found that he has to replace the bottle more often.

Background: Born to a French father and an English mother, Isaac enjoyed an upper class upbringing in Bristol, England, where he and his family were respected for their profitable endeavours in the linen industry, on which they built their legacy, working from the ground up to eventually form one of Britain's largest and most well known manufacturers and distributors of fine linens, the profits from which ensured that they lived in relative luxury for many years, and made the company of nobles and foreign diplomats of the King's court. More than a few off-the-books transactions were made, and within twenty years of its founding, the Clemente family's multi-faceted industry had a large say in the smaller runnings of the country, especially regarding the area of Bristol.

Eager to make a name for himself outside of the business and to serve for King and Country as his mother had encouraged from a young age, Isaac joined the British Navy and attended many tours in the South American and Indian waters, especially the Caribbean, which he loved for its exotic qualities. Isaac rose quickly through the ranks, his naval skills and the eventual discovery of his leadership talent serving to elevate him faster than most serving men at the time, Clemente quickly became a prized officer at the age of just 24.
That very same year, while serving under Lieutenant Robert Maynard, Clemente was present at the attempted capture and death of one Edward Teach, the notorious pirate Blackbeard, even playing a major role in the infamous tyrant's death. Clemente sprang to the aid of Maynard, who was fighting Teach in brutal hand-to-hand combat, driving his sabre through Teach's shoulder and thus allowing Maynard to end the infamous pirate's reign of fear with a single stroke of his own blade. Clemente was given a commendation for his actions, and his rank was elevated ever further.

As a decorated and highly sought after officer in Caribbean waters, Clemente's experiences and clear demonstrations of skill had earned him the prestigious rank of Admiral of the Fleet, this affords him absolute command over many squadrons of naval ships, each commanded by lesser admirals who also follow his orders.

Since finding himself stranded on the distant world of Eternum beside thousands of his countrymen from all manner of historical eras, Clemente has assumed command of the Royal Navy's mysterious presence there as the highest ranking officer. His authority has been questioned, naturally, but he has managed to reign in the unruly bunch and form a manageable and effective military force with which he hopes to command respect and, possibly, uncover a way home. The first step on this journey came with the capture of a diverse group of adventurers, apparently native to the planet, who personified a vital diplomatic resource for the Admiral.
Hoping to open relations with the eponymous emperor of the planet's Namorian empire, Clemente released the party and provided them transport, but soon learned that his Royal Navy were not the only military resurrected upon Eternum.

The Royal Navy port at Sharktooth Bay was attacked in the middle of the night by a joint fleet of German submarines and, fatefully, pirates from Clemente's own era. Under the leadership of terrible pirate and old enemy of Clemente's: Edward Teach, the curious conjoining of naval powers ransacked Sharktooth Bay and left only a curious magical artefact behind. After recovering from the devastating blow, Clemente was more determined than ever to seek the aid of the Namorian empire, and set sail for the capital of Emor, with the ultimate intention of destroying the opposing German and pirate navies and discovering a way off of the accursed planet.

Area: Behind the wheel of his ship, coasting along the seas of Eternum.

Faction: The British Royal Navy

Loves:

The crisp sea air carried on a stiff, salty breeze, especially in the early hours of the morning.
The simple things in life: a good chair, an enthralling book, a crew like family.
The drink.


Hates:

Those who exploit the weak or unassuming for their own gain.
Illiterates and fools.
The drink.


Description of Weaponry and Armour:
As an Admiral, Clemente wears a ceremonial royal blue naval outfit complete with golden shoulder epaulets and white and gold cuffs. Regardless of its fine make, the outfit is purely aesthetic, and the padding is unlikely to protect against anything more deadly than a slingshot.


http://www.militaryheritage.com/images/rn_capt1.jpg

Clemente carries a specially commissioned officer's sword, with a hilt of treated ivory and a guard of intricately inlaid gold and steel, the weapon is as beautiful as it is deadly. As per his request, the blade of the weapon is not the usual standard issue steel of the Royal Navy, rather it is made of folded Damascus steel, the metal product of an ancient Middle-Eastern metalwork practice in which the steel is folded again and again to reinforce the structure.


http://www.militaryheritage.com/images/1805_2.jpg


[An example of Damascus Steel]

http://www.damascus-blanks.com/products/img/k-billet-raindrop(1).jpg

As well as his distinctive sword, Clemente carries an Admiral's issue naval flintlock pistol, which can fire an iron slug at high enough velocity to warp bone and splinter straight through wood. The weapon is fine and very accurate considering its primitive design by modern Earth standards, but it cannot work when wet, and has to be reloaded after every shot, a process which can take more than ten seconds, even with Clemente's practiced hand.


http://www.cmhg.gc.ca/cmh/book_images/high/v2_x3_s02_ss00_04.jpg

Clemente also captains his own ship, a first rate Ship-of-the-Line known as the HMS Aptitude. It is a large, square-rigged ship of blue and black, with gold painted accents and with three gun decks carrying an even 100 cannons, making it on the more heavily armed side of the naval spectrum. The cannons are versatile, and can be used to fire chains shot as well as the usual large slugs. The ship follows the standard line-of-battle tactic of naval warfare, which involves firing broadside at enemy ships and then circling round to fire again after reloading. Clemente has a far from unusual affinity with the Aptitude, it being his very own ship granted to him upon his coronation as Admiral of the Fleet.


[This ship, though with a change of colour]


http://www.conwaypublishing.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/067-San-Trinidad-pic.jpg

[CrumpetCannon]

Allen Durbidge

"I never asked for your sympathy, I asked for your patronage. If you can't give that you'd better fuck off out of here before I give you my gun."

http://th07.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/f/2013/294/e/8/post_apocalyptic_character_design_by_d_torres-d6rdido.jpg

RPApocalypse faded out of existence after a long and enjoyable run, SoulReaper's Survival (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=58331) sprang up a short time later and served as something of a spiritual successor. Then it faded out of existence as well, rather early on, too. Bummer.
Allen served a short role in the roleplay, he mostly just rode a wagon and looked through binoculars, since it didn't get far enough for character interactions. He was a fun character sheet to work on, at least.

Name- Allen Durbidge

Age- 36

Gender- Male

Appearance- Standing at 6 feet 4 inches, Allen doesn't need a caravan guard to scare away thieves. (http://th07.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/f/2013/294/e/8/post_apocalyptic_character_design_by_d_torres-d6rdido.jpg) (Disregard the one on the right)

Affiliation- Wanderer

History- Before the world turned to shit, Allen was a partway successful mechanic and scrap-dealer, making a decent living with as little fuss as possible, he made a habit out of driving his wares around in a flat-bed van, haggling with anyone who had need of a spare circuit breaker or perhaps needed some repair work done on their car or boiler. He was a handyman in every sense of the word, and found a certain joy in that simple existence.

When the disease hit, Allen's father was the first to go, and from then on it was all a downward spiral of death and grief and pain. The only comfort Allen found was in the depths of a bottle, and as the world around him burned and died and decayed, all he did was drink and stare at his grandfather's service pistol, asking himself if he could bring himself to end it all with one swig of whiskey and a half pull on a trigger.
He couldn't, and as time passed, the urge to point the gun at his own body became -with the aid of alcohol induced depression- something horribly different, Allen found solace in banditry, spreading misery to those he killed and pillaged and desecrated just as he thought life had done to him. He pointed the gun at others now, pulled the trigger too, he found it easier, thrilling even. For two years he led a group of raiders himself, murdering and kidnapping and slaving was a way of life, perhaps if he ever thought to throw away the drink, he would realise what atrocities he was committing and walk away.

But Allen was never that self-aware, he blamed the world for the way he was, in the end, he couldn't walk away from the bandit life, he had to be torn away.
One day while hunting some runaway slaves, Allen was ambushed, taken by surprise and pulled from his horse, a trio of his former property beat him near death, only stopping when they did not have the strength to continue, before they stole his pistol and emptied the magazine, one slave uttered the words that ended Allen's life as a bandit.

"I watched you kill my father. You are a disease on this earth."

They pulled the trigger and did what Allen was never able to do.
He awoke in a nearby shanty town, surrounded by kind people who had never even heard of him or raiders before, they told him he was lucky to be alive, that he must be a saint to have survived such a mortal wound. They talked of how he must be a kind, caring soul who was saved by God to fulfil some divine duty.

Allen felt like shit.
As soon as he could walk he left their town, not wanting to pollute their lives by being a part of them, he left with nothing but the clothes on his back and a beautiful chestnut horse, who the townsfolk insisted he should have. He rode for days, and by the time he reached his bandit camp he had made the decision. The camp didn't survive the night, it was consumed by fire and explosions, slavers and rapists and murderers running and being gunned down by Allen's hand.

The road to recovery is long, and Allen now wanders the wastes as a merchant, peddling his wares just as he once did from a truck. With one hand on the reins and the other on a bottle, Allen rebuilds his old life, shouldering the burden of the horrible things he has done, treading the narrow, beaten path towards tomorrow.

Weapons-
Ice Pick - Allen's primary weapon, this old relic has seen better days, held together with bandages and twine, it gets the job done and with a little encouragement can leave a clean puncture wound or a sopping mess.
http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/073/4/2/tomb_raider_reborn_ice_axe_replica_by_jenncroft-d5y2upm.jpg

Webley MK VI Service Revolver - A memento from Allen's grandfather's military service, this weapon is one that haunts the tired wanderer. He only uses it in times of great need, for the memories that it holds terrorise his past. Ammo for this ancient weapon is scarce.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8f/Webley_IMG_6789.jpg

Brass Knuckles - Needing no introduction, these wrought metal buggers are adept at putting stubborn men on the ground, and beating those who dare get back up into a bloody pulp.
http://www.spymuseum.org/files/collections/lrg_34_brassknuckles.jpg

Pipe Bombs - Sometimes when you've stuck an ice pick into someone's head, shot his buddy, and beaten the sense out of their backup, you still need to hunt down the rest of their group and annihilate them with one well timed throw. Thus God created the pipe bomb, and thus Allen became very good at cobbling them together.
http://img.thesun.co.uk/aidemitlum/archive/01506/pipe-532_1506462a.jpg

Skills-
Mechanic - Allen trained for years to be able to take apart cars and reassemble them with a few special tweaks added in. A skilled metal worker, he can wield a blowtorch like an extension of his arm, creating structures, machinery and electrical workings with ease, so long as materials are plenty.

Mercantile - A skilled barterer, peddler, and other words that get across how good he is at selling shit to a sewer. Allen handles money well, keeping proper tabs and info on customers and products alike, selling and buying for profit, the wares, and just for the thrill of it.

Weaknesses-
Alcoholism - Allen still hasn't shaken the addiction to man's greatest and oldest of enemies. The drink frequently consumes him and bathed him in a sea of grief and resurfaced memories, it is best to stay out of his way when a bottle finds its way into his hand.

Old Wounds - There's a mark on Allen's head where the bullet hole never truly healed, he suffers from crippling migraines and short, infrequent bouts of bipolar mood swings. He accepts this wound and hopes it will teach him the extent of his sins.

Other- Three years as a travelling caravan merchant has given Allen a developed knowledge of the various settlements and shanties that dot the landscape, but even now there are some towns he won't visit to trade, for the last time he rode in trailing gunfire and ruin. Some wounds never heal.

[Woz]

It seems that it has been four days since my last packet of crumpets.

I may be experiencing the onsets of withdrawal.

[CrumpetCannon]

Elsa Abrams

http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2011/269/a/c/calamity_2_by_makkon-d4b29b2.jpg

Now here's a character with a strange odyssey. She failed to feature in not one, but two Red Dead Redemption roleplays, both managed by the same GM. Her fate is a cruel one.
When I first stumbled upon Craze's Red Dead Redemption (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=46181&p=1568042#post1568042) I was relatively new to the site, having only been properly active on the site for a few months, and I was unspeakably eager to delve into the universe of what was and still is one of my favourite games of all time.
Apparently fate had other ideas, my submission of her sheet was the last post in that thread. I mourned its loss and moved on to greener pastures.
Almost a year later, Craze saddled up once more, serving Red Dead Revolution (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=59431) up to me on a silver platter. Giddy with the chance to realise Elsa, I made some major alterations to her character sheet and submitted it. I got further this time, what with actually being accepted, and the good news ends there.
I struggled to write up an introductory post for this character that had languished in purgatory for months, and somewhere between deleting the fifth draft and making noises not unlike a frustrated grizzly bear, I realised that the last post was a week past and no new characters had been submitted. I had spent too long trying to bring Elsa to life and as a result she had to go back in the Chokee, perhaps for another year at this rate.
Apparently I'm going to have to make my own RDR roleplay if I want to give this universe and this character the journey I crave.

Look at how awesome that gun is!

Name: Elsa Abrams

Age: 29

Gender: Female

Side: Barlowe's Gang

Profession: An outlaw with skewed morals

Hometown: Blackwater

Appearance:http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2011/269/a/c/calamity_2_by_makkon-d4b29b2.jpg
Her many years in the harsh and volatile frontier have been kind to Elsa, her face possesses a rough beauty, marred only by the two scars stretching from the corner of her mouth down to her collar, the result of a wolf attack. Her eyes are an azure blue and her hair is dirty blonde, her eyebrows are thin and expressive, doing most of the talking for her.

Personality: The bastard child of a Blackwater politician and a saloon whore, Elsa was thrown into an orphanage as quickly as possible and with much secrecy, her father could not risk the social stigma of being the sire to a whore's baby. From a young age Elsa was dysfunctional, growing up in a strict orphanage without the love that a child needs, and as a result she threw up protective barriers between herself and the other children, she is distant, aloof, and prone to bouts of incessant rage and episodes of unadulterated passion. Left with the choice of becoming a nun or a woman of ill repute, Elsa instead ran off to seek her own fortune, running into a gang of 'opportunists' who decided to adopt her.
Now a respected member of the Barlowe's gang, Elsa and her peers travel the plains dabbling in odd jobs and banditry, anything to stay alive in their harsh world, they do whatever they need to in order to get a job done, and are not above ruining innocent lives for their own gain.

Weapons: http://media.liveauctiongroup.net/i/10387/11028053_1.jpg?v=8CE3CDC7FA4D840
A unique weapon that turns a few heads, and in the hands of Elsa it often turns them inside out. It is a rifle that relies on the six round rotating chamber action of a revolver, forming a stylish and curious chimera of terrifying nature.

http://media.liveauctiongroup.net/i/5555/8531713_2.jpg?v=8CCA6026C8FB4E0
A tiny, double barrelled pistol that kicks hard and sends birds several miles away flying for cover, this is a defensive little number that is usually carried in the purse or stocking of out and about women in the Wild West. Elsa wields it because of its satisfying recoil and easily concealable size, rarely actually using it in the midst of a firefight other than as a last resort.

http://www.paradeantiques.co.uk/images/quality-ornate-brass-handle-kukri-1900-01.jpg
An exotic weapon pried from the caches of foreign traders, Elsa greatly enjoys this weapon, frequently oiling the blade and threading horse hairs through the hilt. It is perfectly adept at hacking and slashing through flesh as well as underbrush and wood.

Other: Elsa was only twelve years old when she ran away from her orphanage and was captured by what was -at the time- the fledgling Barlowe's gang, when Barlowe himself talked of ransoming the girl off to the Blackwater authorities, Elsa voiced her concerns by head-butting him in the face and breaking his nose.
A beautiful partnership was formed.

[CrumpetCannon]

Benedict Hund

"I thought America was meant to be this dangerous, exciting place with murders to solve and drug traffickers to come down on. There hasn't been a good murder for at least eight months, Christ, I had more fun patrolling moors and stalking rabbits."

http://i.imgur.com/0ln1WC0.jpg

Following the conclusion of Telltale's The Wolf Among Us, the Roleplaying world was in Fables Fever, and Craze's In Sheep's Clothing (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=61705) was just what the doctor ordered.
We had noir, intrigue, fairy tales and even grit. I delighted in selfishly snapping up the Bigby role of the sniffer dog sheriff, although while Bigby was a wolf and essentially chief of the Fabletown police force, Benedict Hund was a good old fashioned private dick. Werewolves are boring and overused, everyone knows this, which is why I decided to go for something a little different. Hund is the Black Shuck of English folklore (because even in roleplays set entirely in America I insist on spreading my foul English taint), a huge dog with ominous eyes that padded along, half hidden in the mist, guiding wayward travelers home, providing safe passage through the moors.
Basically the opposite of the Hound of The Baskervilles.

Of course the roleplay died, because I took part in it and on this site my participation is poison.

Name: Benedict Hund
Real Name: Black Dog; Barghest; Black Shuck
Age: 500+
Gender: Male

http://i.imgur.com/0ln1WC0.jpg
Benedict is tall and rather broad, with unkempt black hair and striking, attentive eyes. He dresses carelessly in dark garments that often conceal his lean form, and seems to walk with a curious loping gait that hints at an athletic lifestyle.
http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2012/331/1/2/the_black_shuck_by_ashere-d5mcfs5.jpg
Sightings of the Black Dog are few and far between, but all who have had the misfortune of seeing the beast agree that it appears as a huge shaggy dog with fur blacker than night, it is as large as a pony and close to six feet tall when sitting on its haunches.
Its eyes are huge and effulgent, and have never been seen to close or even narrow, always as round as saucers and almost as large.
Cloak: Not all of Benedict's teeth are real, his upper left canine is indistinguishable from the rest but but carries a cloaking enchantment that can be activated at will. Although prosthetic, the tooth functions as a living thing with its own enamel layer and even nerves, it elongates and sharpens along with his natural teeth when slipping into canine form.

Personality: Unflappable and observant, Benedict has had centuries to shape himself into a portrait of the ideal canine, he is wise to the ways of the world and exceedingly loyal to those he deems friends, with a strong moral ideal and near unbreakable will that has seen him through trials and challenges of all forms.
A problem solver, Benedict takes pride in his pragmatism and his ability to distinguish between the real and the unreal, a talent honed through centuries of crossing the border between the two, he has no time for superstition.

Short Bio: Whisperings of the Black Dog can be traced back to the 16th Century, especially in the northern reaches of England, where the moors at night carry strange sounds and the chilly mists highlight ethereal orbs that travel in pairs and follow travellers for miles.
Sightings of the beast are said to herald all kinds of macabre omens such as death in the family or even absolute doom, and those who are prone to dramatisation labelled the creature a hellhound, Benedict resents this somewhat, being a largely benevolent creature that walked the moors of Northern England guiding lost travellers back home, and even helped the many villages that his domain encompassed by utilising his talent of sniffing things out, on more than one occasion escaped rapists and murderers from nearby prisons were found buried in the mud, their throats missing.
Nowadays he puts his otherworldly senses to use as a private detective for hire, an occupation that keeps him modestly funded and occasionally gives him something interesting to chew on.

Other: Call a dog bad and pretty soon he'll start to believe it himself. Legends and superstitions have not been kind to this fiercely benevolent dog, and if given the chance he could slip into the dark and malevolent nature that his label has forced upon him.

[CrumpetCannon]

Courtroom

"Case Closed"

I was immediately charmed by Scapegrace's >Iterate (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=60668). I won't explain too much about it, which is my clever tactic to make you go and read the entire OOC because it's the most original thing you've seen since canned bread.
As for the character I submitted for it... well, I thought it was clever at the time. Not so much now, now it just comes across as a gimmick.
Anyway, the roleplay gave us complete freedom to choose a race for our character, no boundaries at all, and me being the smartass little shit I am, decided that elves and goblins and humans are boring, what's far more interesting is a concept, or an idea.
This fever dream in mind, I set about creating a character that wasn't so much a character but an entity, not a being but an abstract idea. Not a living thing, but a sentient and terrifyingly self aware courtroom that may or may noy simply be the processing unit of a higher power. I don't know what it is, that's up for you to decide.

I'm halfway certain I was intoxicated at the time of this "character's" conception.

===>ENTER PASSWORD? Y/N
>YOU HAVE SELECTED Y
===>INPUTTING PASSWORD >SORBET
>WARNING: INCORRECT PASSWORD
>INITIATING FAILSAFE METHOD ID#0073: LIGER ENCLOSURE PURGE

"Shit..."

===>INPUTTING PASSWORD >ICE-CREAM
>PASSWORD ACCEPTED
>LIGERS SEDATED
>FOR NOW


Username: CrumpetCannon
Character Name: Courtroom
Character Age: Irrelevant, Your Honour

Initial Strength Rating: 1/10
Initial Agility Rating: 1/10
Initial Endurance Rating: 2/10
Initial Charisma Rating: 5/10
Initial Intelligence Rating: 0

Character's Species: Courtroom
Description Thereof:

Presiding over the case regarding the true nature of the Courtroom

Your Honour, I'd like to call my first witness to the stand
And this witness is?
Well, that would be Witness, Your Honour
Objection, Your Honour. The Defence calls upon Witness in every case he attends
Overruled, Prosecutor. There has only ever been the one Witness in this Courtroom. Continue, Defence
Thank you, Your Honour. Now, Mister Witness, how would you describe your relationship with the Courtroom that this case concerns?
Well, I know that I'm a part of it, and so are you, and you, and maybe even you. It's all rather contrived
Interesting. And would you say that this Courtroom is in any way... fictional?
It certainly feels that way. I mean, I'm called upon by both the Defence and the Prosecution, in every case that requires a witness, which seems to be all of them
Fascinating. And would you also say that this Courtroom is a living thing, perhaps the construct of some higher intelligence?
Objection. Your Honour, he's leading the Witness
Overruled. Answer the question, Witness
Well I don't know much about higher intelligences, but it does often feel as if we're all, you know, the same person. Like we're all part of the same mind
Aha! And that, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, points to the conclusion that we are all part of a singular base of thought, a conglomerate, if you will, of decision making thought processes brought together to help our host body survive by way of semi-vicarious problem solving
Objection. These claims are ridiculous, we are all separate beings capable of individual thought. We are not some concept built to serve as a whole
Are you denying that a Courtroom is a variety of roles working together to reach a decision as a whole, Prosecutor?
Of course not. But the implication that we are fragments of thought with no purpose but to aid our host by holding court cases for every conceivable decision is ridiculous to the point of being insulting to any rational minded individual
And how exactly do you know what a rational minded individual might consider insulting, Prosecutor?
Because we held that case last week, like we hold cases for everything
Exactly. For every conceivable thing. For every single forked decision to be made, we of the Courtroom argue the merits of both decisions before the Jury so that they may consider both paths and make their decision for our host body
Gentlemen, this case has dragged on long enough
Just a moment Your Honour. I'd like to call my next witness to the stand. Mister Witness, come up here if you please. Now, are you familiar with the idea of a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other?
Yes, at least, I've seen a lot of Simpsons episodes featuring such a thing
Yes, they seem rather fond of that analogy. Anyway, the idea states that when a person needs to make a decision, a devil on one shoulder presents one possible choice, and an angel on the other shoulder presents another, usually opposites. The person takes both suggestions to heart and makes a decision
Objection, Your Honour. This analogy is going nowhere
I'll allow it. Continue, Defence
Thank you, Your Honour. Now, one could argue that the angel and devil idea is a fantasy mirror of a Courtroom, wherein the devil and the angel are played by the lawyers that make up the Defence and the Prosecution. The two present their ideas, which is considered by the person's raw intelligence, their brain, in this case the Judge, who interprets the views in the context of the law. Next comes the heart, which makes a final decision based upon the arguments of both lawyers and the lawful knowledge of the Judge. The heart is the Jury, combining all presented information and considering it deeply to come to a final decision that feels right
Would you... Agree with that comparison, Witness?
...
...
...
Yes
No further questions, Your Honour
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, have you reached a verdict?
We have, Your Honour
Please
We of the Jury, having considered the arguments of both sides, have come to a decision. We find the explanation that the Courtroom is a conglomerate made up of many roles for the express purpose of reaching a decision for whichever higher intelligence authorised its existence: wholly true and credible

Case closed

[CrumpetCannon]

Sasini

"I think he'll need a lot of bed rest. The kind of bed rest where they shovel half a dozen feet of dirt onto you"

Sasini is that one character everyone makes when they just want to torture some people and burn some orphanages down.
I threw her together for Lestari's Impermanence (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=61827), a roleplay encompassing a dark and twisted world which I felt needed some textbook, near-comedic insanity in the form of the world's most sadistic doctor. Even more twisted than House and even more bluntly vitriolic than Cox. Like all roleplays unfortunate enough to be graced by my effluvial influence, it was put on hiatus.
I recall as I type this that Sasini was based on a character in a group creative writing exercise I run, she was less psychotic there. Ultimately, a name and appearance are all the two characters share.

I also recall that Sasini died in my story, then was resurrected by a Lich, and killed a second time. My word, fate is really trying to tell me that it controls my characters' premature demises.


Name: Sasini. 'Seenie' if you're feeling brave.

Gender: Female

Age: Appears to be in her mid twenties. Around 52 in reality.

Appearance: Sasini is respectably athletic, with the body of a swimmer and the hard eyes of a mercenary. Jet black and slightly curly hair graces her head and hangs to between her shoulder blades, two intricate braids start at her ears and hang down at gradual declines to rest upon her collarbones, weighed down by purple gems that refuse to catch the light. She wears an ensemble of dark cloth and sparingly-placed leather armour, with knee high black boots and various straps and belts around her legs and waist, holding all manner of satchels and packs of medical supplies, as well as a few concealed knives. She also carries a small one-handed crossbow upon her hip, and a small quiver at her waist.
A royal purple sash is tied loosely around her abdomen, matching her gem-braids and acting as a sort a corset that accentuates her athletic body honed by years of action.

Personality: When she was just a child, Sasini watched through tear-stained eyes as her village burned down around her, she has been filled with sorrow and angst ever since that fateful day.
Now, before you introduce your pitchforks to the conversation, let me explain how I'm not copy/pasting the gritty origin story from every RPG ever:

Her village burned down because she thought it would look cool and because she was tired of all the adults shunning her, whispering about her and forbidding their children to play with her, so she snuck out at night and barred all the doors before taking a torch to the thatch roofs of each and every building, and then she stood on a nearby hill and watched the pretty scene.
Her sorrow and the tears? She remembered after the screaming had stopped that she'd left her favourite book inside her home, it was about a prince and a friendly dragon, and she missed it dearly.
And regarding the angst that she has been expressing to this day? Well, she's just kind of a cunt, really. That's the long and short of it.
Yes, Sasini has always been faulty, since birth she has displayed the kind of textbook psychosis that makes psychologists everywhere chew at the bit and reach for their case-study writing pens; she is difficult to pin down and seems to flit between innocence and despicable villainy. She is both creative and stunted, marred by her inability to fully gauge the spectrum of right and wrong, and will often become easy to manipulate as a result, something of a blank canvas that others can project their opinions upon.
Not the usual 'foam-at-the-mouth-and-bounce-across-the-walls-singing-I'm-a-little-teapot' sort of irreparably deranged, Sasini won't come at you with a manic grin and a dagger, swinging wildly (although the temptation is always there), she is more likely to stare at you unnervingly for long periods of time, occasionally comparing you to a butterfly she pulled apart once, and doing so very loudly and with much enthused nostalgia in her voice.

Favourite colour: The same colour as the watermelon Bertie Botts Every Flavour Bean.

Skills:

Sasini has a specialised grasp on life magic or Thaumaturgy, because it is the only magical discipline that she has had success in and the universe has a funny sense of irony like that. She has honed this skill for the express purpose of healing wounds and anaesthetising those in pain. She enjoys the practice of medical magic as the sensation of being completely in control of someone's state of health and level of pain amuses her, which is not surprising. She is well suited for the mental strain of such an arcane pursuit, in the same way that magma is well suited to withstand flame.
She is also adept at identifying, collecting and mixing together all manner of alchemical ingredients to create healing potions and poultices to aid her medical pursuits, because if she has the capability to help heal people she figures she may as well be good at it.
She is actually rather charismatic and is an excellent storyteller, not that anyone is dumb enough to listen to her tales.
Her crossbow has seen a lot of use and she is quite proficient with it, but she is nowhere near the level of skill of trained and dedicated archers. It is more of a support weapon.
You won't find a better gambler, name your game and wager and she will leave you penniless and maybe shirtless.
She is rather good at carving tiny wooden sculptures, especially animals. Her favourites to do are octopuses, for reasons that no one wants to understand.


Other shit: I won't make any jokes about her bedside manner if you don't.