Name: Bella Age: 28 Gender: Female Planet of Birth:Promethea Appearance:
Spoiler: Bella
Spoiler: Relic Mode
Spoiler: Normal
She is 5'8 and weighs an even 135lbs, and is usually dressed in long pants, boots, and tank top. She also has a utility belt type of thing that holds some survival gear.
Biography: Born the youngest daughter of an Atlas Officer before the corporation's collapse. She showed great promise as a soldier and was well on her way to following in her father's footsteps. But the collapse happened and in the company's desperation they turned to the occult. More specifically the Relics left behind by the Eridians.
Her father being among the most fervent of the Officers sacrificed everything to try and save the Corporation. His money, his body, and even his family. First it was their mother, then her brother, then her sister, and finally young Bella. Each of the others were forced to have an ancient Eridian relic fused into their bodies. Each relic gave her family members strong nearly Siren-level powers. But it also drove them mad and slowly ate their bodies from the inside out, Bella watched them all die horrible deaths. Purple blood pouring out of every pore of their body and their screams are imprinted in her mind.
When it was only herself and her father left the madness both continued and ended with her. While the relic her father had killed him, the one he forced onto Bella gave the girl a distinct and stable power. It gives her the ability to become an Eridian cyborg for 2 minutes, during that time it increases her strength, speed, health, shields, and senses.
Class: Relic
Action Skill: Relic Mode
Skill Trees:
Relic Master: Gives her greater boosts, longer modes, and shorter cool-down periods between modes.
Gunwoman: Increases her accuracy and skill with Assault rifles and pistols.
Fighter Gives her better skills with her tomahawk and increases her health, speed, and shields outside of Relic Mode.
Melee Weapon: A Eridin metal tomahawk Preferred Weapon Type: Assault Rifles and Pistols
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 07-04-2017 at 12:07 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Name: Icestripe Age: 37 Species: Badger Gender: Male Optional Title: Chief of the Lonesome Tribe
Appearance(pic or description): Large by badger standards, towering above all he came across. His fur is mostly an icy gray and his headstripe is even more so, looking nearly blue in certain lights. Built like a boulder he is broad of features and thick of limb. He is usually dressed in a thick white tunic with a gray and blue kilt, and thick black boots. He wears a heavy cloak of embroidered blue and silver fabric. His eyes are bright red hinting at the curse of Bloodwrath.
Skills: Survivor of the harshest climates in the land, incredibly strong, quick despite his size, skilled and intelligent leader, a skilled archer, decent close combat fighter, and master of two-handed weapons. And as is the curse of many Badgers, he has the Bloodwrath.
Weapons: A modified War Scythe with a handle built into the middle of the shaft that allows him to put more leverage into his swings and still be effective in Close Combat. But when his scythe even with the modified handle are too big his paws are outfitted with steel gauntlets with sharp claws built into the fingers giving him cat like slashing capabilities. For ranged combat he carries a massive bow made of Yew wood and thirty arrows.
Armor: His armor is one accustomed to maximizing movement without sacrificing too much protection. Plate steel and scaled iron on top of studded leather and thick fabric. He doesn't use a helm but the rest of his body is covered in the hand-made armor. His thick black boots are worn in armor as well.
Gear: Flint and steel, whetstone, fishing pole, waterskin, a pouch of herbs rumored to stem the tide of Bloodlust, and an arrow making kit.
Class: Dreadnought(Armored versions of Berserkers) Family/ Group: The Lonesome Tribe
Personality: "A noble but heavy heart locked inside a savage body." These are the words that start any legend of the Badger Chief, and it describes him perfectly. Like all Badgers when not locked in the throes of Bloodwrath he is a noble and just leader. He respects those who deserve it, but destroys those that have earned his ire.
He is smart and a skilled tactician, but with the memory of killing his comrades always fresh in his mind on top of seeing more of his comrades dying every day have turned Icestripe into a very morose and grim beast.
Spoiler: Background
Born the eldest son of High Chief Steelclaw, Icestripe was destined for greatness the second the Healers saw his blue headstripe. In the North a Blue Stripe was the calling card for Kings. His father had one as did his grandfather, yes young Icestripe was on the fast track from birth.
Personally taught by his father in the ways of war, Icestripe quickly grew into his warrior's body. Sturdy with heavy corded muscles that could shatter stones. While he was trained in all forms of weaponry the young Badger took a deep fondness in two-handed weapons and found his perfect match in the unique looking war scythe. The inverted curving blade gave him a great lethal range of about three body-lengths all around him. He bested many of his peers with the polearm, but for every stretch of greatness there is a few steps back. His close combat skills weren't as powerful as they should have been, because he was a stubborn lump of fur that refused to learn a skill he deemed useless.
No matter the demonstrations shown to him in boxing and other martial arts, the young oaf refused to learn. This continued right up until an old boxing Hare vet arrived at the village and had some crossed words with the young warrior before soundly beating the large badger into submission. After that, Icestripe learned what he could in hopes of besting the long-ears and getting his honor back. For many years his practiced and for many years the Hare continued to beat him. He took it all on the chin and kept working, the young beast was ripe with Bloodwrath even at his young age, but somehow it never showed up when getting beat by the Boxing Hare.
Some of his tribe even believed it to be a false Bloodwrath, this was in turn proven to be false though. On the eve of his 27th birthday as he was coming back from a foraging trip in the lowlands he and some of his comrades were ambushed by the Vanguard of the Nightclaw Horde.
There was a sudden pain in his head and the last thing he saw was a Werat carrying a large maul. The ugly freak simply laughed and kicked dirt in the young Badger's face.
"Awww, the poor baby Stripedog fall down. Kill him and his buddies mates." There was a red mist and the sounds of screaming was all that filled his ears. The mist didn't clear for what seemed liked days, Icestripe found himself over the corpse of the Werat and his scythe soaked in blood from tip to butt. He wasn't any better off, heavy clothing torn, numerous wounds marring his coat and one of his arms seemed to be broken. Looking around him he saw the bodies of not only the Vanguard, but his own comrades.
Upon inspecting the wounds of the old Boxing Hare he saw they matched his scythe perfectly. Horror sunk in and realization crushed his heart and soul, he had heard stories of how the Bloodwrath works, even how his uncle Bloodpaw, died diving headfirst into a Horde led by Ashfang the Pine Marten with only his bare paws and a sharpened rake, the madbeast took many of the Horde with him, but in the end he succumbed to his wounds, sadly though, he took a number of his own ranks with him as well when they tried to help him not be overwhelmed. Until now he thought it was merely a morality tale to keep him in check....but now, as the blood of his friends soaked the snow the reality hit him like an avalanche. It was all true and he had done it. He could never return home after this, he buried the dead Highlanders and Vermin then took up what supplies he could carry and left the frozen north of his birth. He would never allow his Bloodwrath to rear it's ugly head again, he experimented with various herbs and eventually found the combination that quieted the snarling beast in the back of his mind that was the Bloodwrath. Picking them whenever he sees them he ingests these plants to keep himself level, but they do nothing for the horrid memories of slaughtering his friends. These haunt him both at night and during the day, the only reprise he finds is in training and fighting Nightclaw's Horde.
For ten years now he's been hunting down the Horde, killing any he came across. His reputation for brutality attracted the roughest and often most savage warriors of the North to his side. And eventually they formed the Lonesome Tribe, a group of outcasts, homeless mercenaries, and the generally unwanted brutes who found civilized living too bothersome. With the new blades at his back he took his war against the Northern Horde to an all new level, bringing down whole battalions at a time. It even looked like they might beat them back beyond the borders a few times, but as is the norm with Nightclaw and his horde they learned, adapted, and overcame. And soon the Lonesome Tribe became even more lonesome as their numbers dwindled. Now down to a fraction of what they once were they are fighting a running war. Trying to warn those they come across to flee and striking at the smaller scout parties the Wolf sends across the land. More join them, but it's not enough to truly fight back anymore.
Spoiler: Other
Thunder rumbled and lightning cracked across the sky above the dismal little camp with it's meekly flickering fires under heavy cloth awnings. Numbered a mere thirty beasts the remnants of the Lonesome Tribe were enjoying another wonderful night in Mossflower country tracking a scouting party of Nightclaw's Horde.
While not a positive assumption, the warrior band was sure the Vermin were hunkering down against the storm as well. While they should be hunting them using the weather as a cover, it would be a fool's errand if they didn't know where to go. Torches and lanterns would never work in this deluge and no one here could see in the dark. They would rest up and head out as soon as the storm broke or when the gray morning showed itself....whichever came first.
There was six awnings in total, each covering five warriors, and each group looked as miserable as the last. Munching on hard tack and whatever wild vittles they could scrounge up from the soggy ground and drinking cold peppermint and honey tea. One soul looked slightly more miserable though,the massive Badger under the tarp at the center of the camp with his four lieutenants trying to get up the gumption to talk strategy. No words were spoken though, only the occasional cough or sigh. The sadness hung heavy about them, they were very far from home and fighting an uphill battle that showed no sign of their efforts being even noticed by the enemies. Desertion was an ever present thing, and no one could really blames those that did. There was a reason they were called the Lonesome Tribe, those they stayed though did so for various reasons. No other place to go, hellbent on killing the Vermin and getting justice for whatever wrong the Horde had done them, the list could go on. But in the end they stayed for one reason...loyalty, they had bled with these other beasts, they have seen friends die taking many enemies with them, and they knew their leader would die for them if it came to keeping any one of them alive.
The silence dragged on until the rain seemed to slacken and the other little groups could hear a deep sad voice reach their ears. It was the voice of Icestripe, he was singing an old sad song from the Highlands.
By yon bonnie banks an' by yon bonnie braes
Whaur the sun shines bright on Loch Forlin.
Whaur me an' my true love will ne'er meet again.
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Forlin'.
O ye'll tak' the high road, and Ah'll tak' the low road.
And Ah'll be in the Highlans' afore ye.
Fir me an' my true love will ne'er meet again.
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Forlin'.
'Twas there that we perted in yon shady glen.
On the steep, steep sides o' Ben Forlin
Whaur in sof' purple hue, the hielan hills we view.
An' the moon comin' oot in the gloamin’.
O ye'll tak' the high road, and Ah'll tak' the low road.
And Ah'll be in the Highlans' afore ye.
Fir me an' my true love will ne'er meet again.
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Forlin'.
The wee birdies sing an' the wild flouers spring.
An' in sunshine the waters are sleeping.
But the broken heart it kens, nae second spring again.
Tho' the waeful may cease frae their weeping.
O ye'll tak' the high road, and Ah'll tak' the low road.
And Ah'll be in the Highlans' afore ye.
Fir me an' my true love will ne'er meet again.
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Forlin'.
Moved by the massive warriors words, the rest of the company soon joined in and it could be heard in their voices that their spirits lifted a touch. More cheerful song were song soon after and eventually the storm stopped completely and a clear clean moon emerged from the clouds showing the Lonesome Tribe the faintly flickering fires of the Vermin Camp down in a nearby grove of pines. With their target in sight and with no sign of the enemy beasts know of them they doused their own fires and quickly grabbed up their weapons moving like wraiths into the gloomy woodlands. In a matter of minutes the fearsome war cries of the Lonesome Tribe was heard and mingled with the death peels of the Vermin.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Name: Ronda Maelstrom Age: 32 Species: Sea Otter Gender: Female Optional Title(Lord, Captain, Chief, etc): Skipper of the Black Rudder Otter Holt.
Appearance(pic or description): Two words describe Ronda's appearance very well, large and in charge. While not masculine by any means she calls herself a big boned gal, her curves are apparent and her face is pretty.
If she hadn't beaten the pride outta every male she came across she would've made a very good wife. Her fur is a deep brown and slick like all Otters aside from her tail which she symbolically paints black in mourning of all the lives the Horde has killed. Her good eye is a rich merry Brown, while her bad eye, the one under the patch is grayed over and heavily scarred.
Her outfits are simple and practical, her black clam shell eye patch and a black headband are all she wears on her head. The rest of her body is usually dressed in a long black and gold hooded coat, a blue sleeveless jerkin, warm studded leather pants held up with a broad black belt with a cutlass, a few daggers and a map tucked in it. She foregoes shoes most of the time.
Skills: As all Otters, she's a Master swimmer, she's also a very strong and quick warrior, she's one of the best wrestlers on the high seas. She also knows Woodland rivers like the back of her paw. She is a great Sailor and Navigator, she can guide any lost traveler through the treacherous waters.
Has traveled many places and seen many things. She's what you could call a Jane of all trades, she knows Healing, Archery, Slinging, one handed and two handed weaponry, and very keen with javelins and spears.
Weapons: She carries a heavy cutlass, a heavy sling with around 20 smooth river stones in a pouch, a pair of boat hooks, and a hatchet.
Armor: Her clothing is usually heavy enough and her movements quick and strong enough to make her hard to hit, but if it calls for armor she carries a heavy suit of studded leather armor that is actually the matching set of her pants.
Gear: A surplus of fishing lines, hooks, and bait. She also has mending needles, a fire starting, weather resistant cloak,
Class: Buccaneer (Large heavy hitting sea raiders) Family/ Group: The Black Rudder Holt
Personality: Ronda is overall a jolly Otter. She loves laughing, she loves joking, she loves singing songs.
Jolly doesn't necessarily mean foolish though, years of traveling and fighting vermin have made her wise in terms of life and combat.
Years of seeing friends and family be killed by the Horde have made her overprotective of those she's deemed in need of protection.
This just goes without saying she's fearless.
And something of a Dreamer, she remembers the days before the Horde. It was peaceful, it was safe, and young ones could grow up, fall in love, get married, and start a family without fearing for their lives. She dreams about returning to those times every night.
Spoiler: Background
Ronda was born and raised on the Sea. Both her parents were part of the Maelstrom Sea Otter Holt that patrolled the High North Coast terrorizing and decimating any Sea Vermin that dared to set foot on the cold sands. Her life was adventurous and sometimes dangerous, Sea Vermin raids, massive storms, and other bothersome things. But she reviled in the thrill of it and blossomed into one of the top fighters in her age group.
She'd always been bigger than all the other lass and even than some of the lads too. Constant training, a love of adventure, and naturally hardy constitution all coming together to create the Warrior that is Ronda Maelstrom. But her life wasn't all blood and steel, there was more than a few tears and hard lessons learned.To this day she doesn't speak of many of them.
But once she reached the proper age she left her Holt to begin her own. This was harder than she first thought, she'd beaten up and taken the wind out of the sails of most males on the High North Coast, and the softer males down south would never be able to handle her. It seemed she was destined to life of aimless wandering and loneliness. But while some maids would cry and wrench their paws in despair, Ronda put her energies into something productive, cutting the tails off of any vermin she came across and tossing them to the sharks. It was during this little quest that she got her first taste of the savage Horde.
Rumors had been circulating along the Coast of Viggo Nightclaw, the Wolf of War. A Warlord from the land of ice and snow far to the north, now there's been Vermin Warlord's threatening the South since the beginning of time, but this one was far above them. He's smart, ruthless, a master warrior, and worst of all he actually has the respect and love of his horde. Many warlords rule by being stronger, meaner, and more than willing to kill his underlings to keep his power. Viggo doesn't do that, in fact he kills those that do. Any leader found mistreating his underlings is personally killed by the Wolf.
Kindness can be a dangerous weapon when in the hands of a smart vermin, these rumors and many more put a fire in Ronda's veins and had her join in the defense with other Otter Holts, forming her own in battle called the Black Rudders and woodland defenders.They fought valiantly, but the outcome was a bloodbath.The Defenders were a rag-tag band with no real unit cohesion. Everyone fought in their own clumps and focused on their own comrades, the lack of teamwork against the perfectly organized Horde spelled their doom. Tribes of GUOSIM were wiped out, nearly every other Otter Holt, the Maelstrom's included, were cut down, and any wandering warrior looking to help out was swallowed by the unyielding vermin numbers and spat out a broken and bloody pile of fur and dirt. Ronda and her Holt were the only ones that managed to fight their way to safety and let the horde thunder by heading further South. They didn't even bother to loot the dead, they just marched over top of them, what remains that could be identified were buried and what gear could be saved, was. By the end of the week Ronda and her Holt stood tall, much like the Lone Tribe’s hardship made them strong. Many Otters had no home left and no comrades to mourn with, after dipping her tail into a pile of ash that was once a small fort, the Black Rudder Otter Holt was truly born and their mission set. For many years they roamed around Mossflower helping beasts out and ofttimes joining Chief Icestripe and his Tribe in hunting down the Horde.
Now they are supplementing the ailing beast at the Loamhedge Abbey, the good beasts had no real warriors nor any kind of military leadership. They did have the most secure building in Mossflower though, and with the right warriors it could become the last bastion against the Wolf of War.
Other:
"Come naow, ye shivery beasties! Lift yer arms! Defend, Parry, Thrust, back step, back step thrust!" Dressed in her long coat with the hood up and boots crunching in the snow and sand. Skipper Ronda Maelstrom was engaged in instructing some of the older beasts of Loamhedge Abbey in the use of weaponry and the ways of war.
Teaching peaceful beasts to fight was always an uphill fight, but with more and more of them dying each day it became a nearly impossible fight. She expected most of her pupils to not make it past the week. If they did though they would need to know all she can teach them. And she couldn't be nice about.
"Move yer footpaws, da Horde is a well highly trained an' in perfect sync! If yer nae as trained or as in'sync then yer dead!" She watched the the tired Abbeydwellers doubled their efforts glancing around trying to move as one with the beast next to them. It was somewhat painful to see them stumbling and trying to catch up, luckily they were just using wooden swords at the moment, otherwise someone would be getting hurt.
With a sigh Ronda waved her paw.
"Ok at ease, the lot of ya." The Abbeybeasts give a collective sigh of relief and begin rubbing swore limbs and cold-numbed paws. They were hard workers and quick to take up the blade, but they weren't creatures of conflict. The rigors of training was more a deterrent to the farmers and gatherers then an incentive.
She put a smile on her features and spoke.
"Yer all doin' well, Ah'm beginning tae see warriors in ye. Naow take yer weapons with ye an' practice with'em tonight. Ah'll see ye all on the morrow." Still sore, but with proud smiles on their faces they returned to the main building leaving the Skipper alone on the lawns. The female pulled her cloak more about her body and walked off, to check on the other training sessions and help out if needed. Nearing the front gates she saw the other trainers doing well enough with their groups. Finishing up and sending them back inside to warm up, they were making all kinds of progress. In a dozen seasons they might even be considered good, but she highly doubted that Nightclaw would give them that kind of time. They'd need to increase the amount of training everyday and possible reach out to the groups left fighting in the Woodlands and bring them to the Abbey. Room was running thin as it is even with all the deaths. But they'd need the bodies, she'd have to bring it up to the leaders tonight sometime. For now she would just keep warm by walking around the Abbey tossing advice out to those that need it, and giving heart to the downtrodden.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Doppelgänger name: Dios the Doppelgänger, Domino the Riot-inducer, and whatever name he feels like using at the time
Appearance: Dios prefers to take the form of a scruffy looking blonde-headed boy dressed like he tumbled out a Charles Dickens novel. Flat hats, white cotton button up shirts, long wool trousers, and brown leather boots. His skin is be-freckled but lightly tanned, his eyes are apple green and sparkle whenever he makes a joke.
Personality: Dios is a centuries old Doppelgänger and has been playing jokes for longer than most. He's a gentleman when he needs to be, but at the end of the day he'll pull a prank on his own mother...if she didn't already know every trick in the book.
Trickster or no he doesn't abide crime or meanness if he can stop it.
Bio: Born into gutter of Charles Dickens England, Dios has long forgotten his own birth name, and most of his own past. What he does remember though is running around the back-alleys living life hand-to-mouth and getting back at people he didn't like by pulling pranks.
He lived this way right up until he was 18, it was around this time that he was caught stealing more than his share from an Urchin Gang he was running with. He was quicker than his pursuers, but mother nature has a way of watching you and picking the right time to screw you over. For Dios it was a sheet of ice and the Thames. He skidded across the ice and had a face-to-face encounter with a big rock at the bottom of the River.
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 03-10-2016 at 08:46 PM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Name: Syeira Title: The Gypsy Blade Profession: Sellsword and Roamer Age: 26 Appearance:
Spoiler: Syeira
A Romanian of healthy stock, Syeira is 6'0 and weighs a strong yet curvy 150lbs. Years of protecting herself from bigots and fools, and being a wanderer have carved her into a pillar of lithe quick reacting muscle. Her eyes are a golden brown and her black hair is kept short but generally messy. Her skin is a healthy dusky brown. Usually seen in the outfit above she does own some prettier things when the situation calls for it.
Weapon: The 4 foot German longsword and 6 foot Flamberge in the pic.
She also carries these daggers, and while she's not very good at it she also has a simple Yew hunting bow she uses for that exact purpose.
Equipment/Personal Belongings: In the satchel at her hip she carries flint and steel, poisons and poison ingredients, a couple of flasks of Absinthe, some fishing line, a few hooks, and weights. She sleeps in a wool forest green hammock which doubles as her traveling cloak when it's cold.
Personality: Though her name means "Princess", nothing about Syeira says pretty pink damsel locked away in a tower waiting for her Prince Charming. She's a firm believer in if you can't take care of yourself, then no one else should be expected to unless you're some kind of child. She hates Tyrants and the arrogant, too bad for Prince John he's both.
Spoiler: Background
Born in the back of a wagon on some heavily wooded back road, Syeria was said to be one of the most beautiful babies born that year. Being the daughter of their leader it made some sense, but she never liked the comparison. To her all her people are beautiful, even her Grandmother with her jagged features and toothless mouth.
From a young age she was never one to sit down and learn the duties of girls. She needed to see the sun and feel the wind, she was outside whenever she could manage to sneak away. Armed with a pair of daggers she was given for a birthday she would go out and pretend she was some warrior wandering out of a kingdom of a forgotten people to discover just how the world had changed since last they ventured into it. It gave her family gray hairs, but it was fun at the time, the fun continued until she was reaching the end of Adolescence and still unwed. Now to her people this was unheard of and bordering on shameful. Now young girl was unwed at nineteen, in fact most had been married for fives years and had two or three kids. Syeria just couldn't bare the idea of giving up her sword for swaddling clothes. Even with women having most of the power in the Romani Community, she just couldn't see herself with a pregnant belly.
She fought with her parents often and eventually everything exploded out and Syeria found herself an outcast at 21 with no family, no place to live, and only her daggers to protect her. At first it hurt, but as it sank in she let it be locked away in her heart and became the typical wandering Gypsy. She knew enough about the usual Gypsy skills to make a living as a Fortune Teller, Alchemist, and Guide.These jobs took her all over Europe and she picked up skills and treasures that helped her forget about being an outcast. Two of them she still carries, her swords. She gained both of these masterpieces of combat while in Germany. She was working as a Sword-for-hire to some Lord that was in too many dark deeds to worry about some "dark-skinned Gypsy" tagging along. For this particular dark deed she and some of the other Sell-swords were recovering some "stolen heirloom" from a Lord away on the Crusades. Syeria knew it was all a lie, but she wanted the money. It was a simple thing right up until they arrived at the gates of the Lord's Estates. Apparently he had come back from the crusades and brought his whole garrison with him, they tried diplomacy and bribery. Neither worked, but deception was always an option for Sellswords. Waiting for nightfall they climbed over the wall and crept their way into the lord's house, it was all silent, but you learn never to cheer until you're outside and have the coin in your hand. They were mere feet away from their goal when a Sellsword, forgetting what they were after decided to pick the pocket of a sleeping guard. Too bad the guard wasn't really sleeping and too bad the thief was a really bad pickpocket.
The man sounded the alarm and soon the German Lord and his Mercenaries were fighting their way out of the house killing any who got in their way. Numbers were not in their favor though, at the end it was only Syeria and the Lord left and he was the victim of a sword cleaving most of his arm from his body. He died before they reached the wall, now the Gypsy wasn't what could be called the sentimental type. But she liked the Lord and thought his family would like to have his swords back as mementos. So after taking what she was owed in coin and unclasping the swords she ran for her life from the Lord's Soldiers. Taking to the woods and remembering the lessons her family taught her she found her way back to the German's House and presented the blades to his good wife.
Only problem was, she wasn't very happy to see them. She had been growing sick of the Lord's criminal life and was glad to see him gone, she gave the blades back to Syeria and slammed the door in her face.
With that done the woman found herself in some good money and planned to live it up in merry old London, sadly the English don't like the idea of an armed Gypsy having money. She was victimized by the Tax Collectors and in a matter of weeks found herself right back to poor and hungry. It didn't stop there though, poor as she is she was still a heavily armed Gypsy Woman roaming around a "civilized" man's world. She found herself under attack by everyone she came across even when she wasn't armed. And of course the taxman never forgot her, it soon grew too much. Fleeing with what she could she followed the stories of Robin Hood and joined the ranks of his Brigands.
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 07-04-2017 at 12:12 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Name: Aodh Title: The Orphan Profession: Guard Age: 30 Appearance:
Spoiler: Aodh
A man of imposing stature and protective demeanor, Aodh is a well-formed 6'3 and weighs 200lbs of hard-earned muscle and sinew. He wears the Tartan of an unknown possibly extinct clan from the predominately Gaelic Isles of Skye. He also wears a long white shirt under his kilt.
Equipment/Personal Belongings: Aodh doesn't carry much, if he can find it elsewhere or gain it from the land he tends to rather that. He has a water skin, a fire kit, and a bone amulet with words written in ancient Gaelic.
Personality: Silent and edgy Aodh carries himself like an animal either hunting or being hunted. He's not jumpy just cautious in all things. Some say it's the natural bestial caution born from the ancient Gaelic people, others say it's just him. Aodh doesn't say either way, he just does what his instincts tell him. He is cordial when you're cordial, but come with intent to do harm and harm will find you before you find it.
Background: Aodh was found on the doorstep of Clan Dunbar many years ago, all he had was the tartan he now wears and his amulet. His name was given him because there was a flame on the back of the amulet and being from a Gaelic family the Dunbars figured it would suit him.
And throughout his life it was, while not like a raging wildfire all action and passion, he held the steady burning prowess of a hearth. Always moving, always growing, but never getting out of control. A steady buffer for Kendra, while they were raised like siblings the Dunbars made sure to establish the young man's place as a warrior for the good of their Clan. He wouldn't inherit anything like a son would just come along with the house like furniture. It was cruel at first, but it wasn't as bad as it seemed as the years moved along. He was trained to fight and taught how to run war parties and a household. And through it all his naturally steady and even personality proved the perfect tool for many of the Dunbar Holdings. He and Kendra drew close throughout their lives together, some say even closer than brother and sister. Neither will say, they just know to look for the big Gael when they see Young Lady Dunbar.
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 07-04-2017 at 12:14 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Name: Astra Sola Lunas Age: 15 years in operation Species: Magical Construct Profession before MHI: Circus Performer
Spoiler: Appearances
She has three appearances depending on what she is needed for.
Spoiler: Astra
Her normal form, a slender 5'6, a neat 100 pounds, and under her hat she has blue and red hair. Used to do normal jobs.
Spoiler: Sola
Her fight form, a more imposing 6'0, a sold 150 pounds, and her hair is purple and red. Used to take on physically tougher enemies like Wights and Vampires.
Spoiler: Lunas
Her stealth form, a sneaky 5'5, a speedy 80 pounds, and her hair is purple and blue. Used primarily for recon, but the added speed gives her a slight edge for assassinations and thievery.
Weapon:
Spoiler: Pair of HK MP7s
Spoiler: KBar Fighting Knife
Armor Color: -Coyote Brown City/State came from: Sleepy Hollow, New York
How were you recruited to MHI- Recruited in her hometown after the circus she was performing in was besieged a small group of Nasty Zombies. The humans were quickly dispatched, but being a Construct created by Magic melding metal and two elemental Spirits together, the monsters' touch had no effect on her or Pyrous. They weren't particularly tough, she switched to her "Strong Woman" form and just bashed their skulls in with the free-weights she was about to use in her act, Pyrous took care of his half with his throwing knives. The MHI Team showed up and put down the circus folk that had been turned. With Astra, Pyrous, and the wizard(who had vanished at the start of the attack) being the only ones left they brought her into the fold. She wished for Pyrous to join her, but he said he need to bring the Circus back to life. And they parted ways with a promise of true love on their soft leather lips that they would return to each other.
Personality: Astra has what she calls a harmonious Multiple Personality Disorder. Her actual personality is very sweet and joyous. She was created to make people laugh after all. She speaks with a high somewhat childish voice.
Next is Sola, being a Fire Spirit, she's passionate, strong-willed, and with an annoying need to show-off. She speaks with a deeper more sultry sounding voice.
Lunas is a Night Spirit, as such she's creative, intuitive, with just a touch of romantic loner. She speaks with a wispy medium depth voice that seems to never rise above a whisper.
Together they seem to keep each other in check with Astra usually playing the middle-woman.
Background: Created in the vortex of magical power that looms over Sleepy Hollow, New York. Astra was just a hollow life sized Faux Silver and Leather marionette. She was supposed to be part of a new Puppet/ Theatrical Show. Controlled by wires and counter-weights and voiced by the ringmaster's teenage niece.
So much time, energy, detail, and passion went into creating her and her lover Pyrous Aero Terran who was voice by the Lion Tamer's son and the Niece's long term boyfriend, that the circus people actually treated them as real people. Talking with them about their problems, joking with them, even dancing with them. So intense were these feelings that the two puppets took on magical consciousness and gained their own voices with some help from a genuine Wizard that worked in the Circus. At first it was just Astra and Pyrous, two young kids brought to life and slowly gaining more knowledge and experience through interaction. As their fame grew though people wanted to see them do more and have bigger more exciting acts.
At first the Circus Folk were against it, Astra and Pyrous were like their children, and what the masses wanted would've been like getting plastic surgery on their kids because they stopped being so cute. The puppets wanted to help the circus get more successful and so with more aid from the wizard the two young constructs were melded with two Elemental Spirits. A Fire and Night Spirit for Astra, and an Air and Earth Spirit for Pyrous. The process was mostly painless, but the Wizard refused to speak of how he did it. Eventually everyone stopped caring and just enjoyed having the two puppets actually interacting with them.
For many years after their construction they became world famous and people came from all around just to see the Full Moon Circus with it's magical puppets. Life was good, and in time the Ringmaster saved enough money to upgrade the kids to full silver and the finest leather around. It was around this time that the zombies attacked, the wizard vanished and left Astra and Pyrous to fight the creatures. They did so, but seeing their family dead around them affected the spirits greatly. While none of them will talk about it, a keen observer can notice the sadness even with their stark white eyes. So after seeing her way through training Astra Sola Lunas are all ready to graduate. Having been around Circus folk and their deception Astra is extremely skilled at reading human body language and even learned ASL to translate for some of the Acts that couldn't speak and for the Audience that couldn't hear.
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 07-04-2017 at 12:19 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Personality: Sleek and professional he keeps his head in tight situations always has a few backup plans at his disposal. He's a grand actor playing the simpleton Bruiser working under the Mob Boss Antonio Felizio
Appearance:
History: Born in Maine and raised as the son of a Lobsterman he learned the virtues of hard work and perseverance.He excelled at school and sports and carried this pride through to his introduction into the FBI. He's been working on the Edford case for almost 3 years now and he can almost smell the Mob Boss's downfall.
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 07-04-2017 at 12:25 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Guiding Light: Ailbhe can summon a hovering ball of light to act as a roving light source, or a genuine lighted guide through a massive maze.
Power Beam: Pretty basic this one, she can fire a powerful single beam of light that decimates those directly in it's path.
Dazzle: Using a bright flash of light she can temporarily blind those around her.
Bright Defense: Using hard light she can strengthen the natural defense of her shield and armor and even create objects from the light itself. Though those aren't quite as strong as the divine metal.
Solar Beam: Taking in ambient sunlight, Ailbhe can fire a powerful beam of light energy from the sky and blast it into targets.
Constructs: Using hardlight similar to Bright Defense she can create simple constructs like bridges and doors for a few minutes.
Invisibility: Bending the light around her she can become totally invisible.
Weapon(s): A large two handed sword, a short sword, and a divine shield.
Fighting Style(s): Divine Wrath: As a nearly celestial being her fighting style focuses on a combination of strong strikes, and light based defense.
Other Combat-Related Skills:
Swordfighter: Many years of practice and study have honed The Battle Matron's skills with her swords to the stuff of legends.
Shield Battler: Always pushing for balance in her combat drilling. Ailbhe has also become quite skilled as using her shield offensively.
Hand-to-Hand: While not professionally trained in any earth martial arts, she has learned human anatomy and knows where to strike to end battles quickly.
Aeriel Combat: Being a creature of flight, she has become quite skilled at fighting in mid-air.
Divine Anatomy: Being an angle she has greater than human physical abilities like strength, speed, agility, endurance, and durability.
Non-Combat-Related Skills:
Flight: She can fly up to speeds equal to a plane and reach the very edge of the atmosphere.
Night Vision: Ailbhe can see as perfectly in darkness as she can in light.
Knowledge: Her years of life and training have given Ailbhe a deep well of knowledge and experience to draw from as needed.
Technological Knowledge: While not close to mastery she knows enough about Earth Tech to use it if needed.
Appearance:
Spoiler: The Battle Matron
She is an impressive 6'3 and coming in at 145 lbs of muscle. When not in battle she wears long white dresses or togas when training.
Personality: Ailbhe is what one could call a Judge. She's very solid in her beliefs and never fails in her duty whatever it is. She fights tooth and nail for those she's in charge of and drops the heaviest of judgments and punishment on those that deserve it.
History: The History of Ailbhe is a history of the Dragon Gods and their war against the forces of evil. Joining the ranks of their guards at an age so young she can barely recall the first few years, just blurs of pain, wind, and growth. As the rest of her squadmates trained up into one of the four Elements of the Gods, she found herself with no strong affinity in any of them.
It was first thought she was just ungifted and on the fast track to removal, but the old Captain saw something familiar in the Angel. Ailbhe was given the test of light and it was discovered that like the Captain she was attuned with the intangible Element of Light, and instead of removal she was placed on the path of leadership. She was trained under the personal tutelage of the former Captain and eventually replaced her as the leader of the Royal Guard. Since then she's been protecting the power of the Gods waiting for the right time and the right opportunity to seek out the vessels that hold the Dragons' Elemental Power and train them to become the next protectors of the world.
Other Notes: She likes to keep her underlings moving and on their toes.
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 07-04-2017 at 12:26 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
Character Name: Duncan MacTavish of the Clan MacTavish of the Cambels of Argyll
Gender: Male
Nationality: Scottish
Age: 28
Appearance:
Average in height and weight but built with strong corded muscle, with tanned skin, long brown hair and fierce green eyes.
Dressed in a loose white shirt, kilt, and rabbit fur boots. In battle he's dressed in fine
chainmail breastplate, helmet and gauntlets.
Plaid(if applicable): Campbell of Argyle.
Thomson/ Tavish
Clan History(if applicable): MacTavish and Cambels of Argyle were born family but lived a tenuous existence of each other. Trust was rare when both clans were vying for the same land. When Sir William Wallace started his rebellion the MacTavish's were among the first to join him but the Cambel's of Argyll jumped over the the side of the English needless to say it didn't get much better. It was only after Sir William's death that the MacTavish and Cambel's put aside their bickering and joined with King Robert the Bruce in his fighting off of the English. The Cambel's are a family of great antiquity and power as are the MacTavishes
Clan motto: Non Oblitus ( Do not forget me after death)
Personal History: Kincaid is the middle son of the MacTavish Chief Andrew along with his brothers Samuel and Michael he journeyed to fight in the great war against tyranny.
Weapons: Lochaber Axe
Spoiler: Axe
Spoiler: Sgian dubh
Extra: His brothers and he prefer to be called of the MacTavish clan rather than the whole title.
Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 07-04-2017 at 12:27 AM.
Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
Breath deep as the snow falls around you. Let it fill your lungs and purify the fires of doubt within you.
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