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Thread: Trials of the Forsaken - OOC

  1. #11
    Wolf of the Highlands
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    Stark, the name given to my ancestor for a feat of bravery. It means Strength, or Strong.
    The motto give: fortiorum fortia facta (made stronger and braver)

    I say, let us all be fortiorum fortia facta.

    Spoiler: I'm an Ajin! 

    Spoiler: extra 

  2. #12
    Wolf of the Highlands
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    I got the IC up.
    I still need character sheets before we start, but it's up.

    https://role-player.net/forum/showth...05#post3063005
    Stark, the name given to my ancestor for a feat of bravery. It means Strength, or Strong.
    The motto give: fortiorum fortia facta (made stronger and braver)

    I say, let us all be fortiorum fortia facta.

    Spoiler: I'm an Ajin! 

    Spoiler: extra 

  3. #13
    Wolf of the Highlands
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    my character (as full member of the party)
    Spoiler: Emalia|skinwalker|Brawler 


    note that an NPC will join the party later and will stay with the party until we exit the caves (about level 10)
    Last edited by Highland Sniper; 06-19-2020 at 03:34 AM.
    Stark, the name given to my ancestor for a feat of bravery. It means Strength, or Strong.
    The motto give: fortiorum fortia facta (made stronger and braver)

    I say, let us all be fortiorum fortia facta.

    Spoiler: I'm an Ajin! 

    Spoiler: extra 

  4. #14
    PREACH FORGIVE ME PLEASE I BEG OF YOU!
    Minkasha's Avatar
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    Name: Qal'talis Lioncrest, The Lost Prince

    Age: 37

    Race: Half-Elf

    Class: Darkseeker

    Spoiler: Qal'talis Image 


    Description: Qal’talis walks with the airs of two words bred into his creation. Though the light of his radiant complexion often hides under the hood of a cloak there is a glow of moral authority and a good-natured temperament apparent to anyone who studies him. The contrasting irony of the discrete figure having a reassuring guidance coming through his features may startle some who see him step from the shadows. Yet besides the direct, straight forward goodness of his stare is the elegance and distant refinement found in the silver hues and golden subtleties coloring the irises. His brows are thick, conveying courage, yet no hairs fall out of place, compliment the other drawing attributes to him.

    Qal’talis’ skin, lips, and ashen blonde locks have a powdery softness to them almost exclusively gifted to the fay. Though lean, the Elf blood molds his 5’8” visage into a shapely, more nimble form.

    Born with the essence of both Elfin and Human Qal’talis appears heroic, beautiful, spry, and trustworthy. Yet to discover the alit graces natural to him one has to see him first and often the darkly dressed holy man of shadows doesn’t let himself be seen. To most he is a hooded figure with the curious wisps of blonde hair invoking curiosity.

    Backstory: Honesty, justice, money, power and handsomeness striking with his every act Prince Wyenon was a prosperous and glorious Human in Losam. Coming from a line of kings the Lioncrest family upheld many virtues with a light and charisma many flocked to. And it was the daylight of fairness which seemed to come from him in abundance that made him not only the center of desire, but a victim of egregious deception.

    Wed to an expecting Nushala, the first Elf welcomed into the Lioncrest family, there was the wholesome promise of joy as their child developed within her. Wyenon loved deeply, a passionate man who held himself close to Nushala often. The intimacy of their relationship was of devotion. On the night of their first engagement anniversary, Prince Wyenon offered to Nushala half of an irreplaceable heirloom: a half of the Lion Pendant, whose symbology and age within the family spanned multi generations.

    Nushala accepted it graciously, and took him intensely that night. In the splendor of the next morning Nushala entered into the bedroom, stared at the throws of love across the sheets, and of her sleeping husband: the scene apparent of an intimate night spent with someone. Heartbroken Nushala challenged him and to Wyenon’s horror he learned that the woman he had spent that sacred night with, whom he had given half of his family legacy to had been a devious stranger who had managed to enchant and creep her way into his chambers while the real Nushala had been absent. Though the Prince of Losam scoured for the violating phantom of his passions there was no trace of her or the half-pendant she had managed to steal. It was this event which struck Wyenon grimly. And then, with challenging timing, Qal’talis was born.

    Their prized son became their only heir as the glowing sun began to show waning strength. The descent, the darkening was gradual. Now king, Wyenon continued to press forward, to inspire and cheer Losam yet everyone knew what happened that night. Because of his open crusade to find the sick woman, it continued to keep as a part of him, haunting his reputation. That pureness of light burned and warped under the open candidness of his previous flaw at a most intimate time and place of his life.

    Qal’talis watched his parents deteriorate both in their manor and in the public eye. Qal’talis was deeply unnerved by the suffering his father felt among the crowds of his people, by the noxious mix of emotions that followed from public even to the next. It taught him to keep his cards closer to his chest, a lesson his father never learned – too open, to a fault.

    Qal’talis’ heart broke for what his parents’ strained marriage had turned into by the time he had reached late adolescence. Though a prince and promised to take the Lioncrest throne the regal chair felt hollow like a dying sun, powered by a bitter man who could not halt leaking his dull poison through the rest of his life. As King Wyenon attempted to impress upon Qal’talis all the bright and wonderful things of being king it was ever apparent the unspoken and denied grim realities. The gift of the remaining half of the Lioncrest heirloom was a self-evident example despite his father’s invocations of its importance.

    Qal’talis fled, finding no future in that throne. He had been taken by a rumored group of clandestine interventionists within Losam who always came to the aid of the innocent and disempowered. Seeking out the poor, Qal’talis was guided to a representative of the organization. They were followers of Morinda the goddess of compassionate shadows, tender nights, and lunar-set retributions. The Night Mother desired with her followers to bring sustenance to those unable, to nurture agents of her faith who kept their faces in the seal of night in order to have their actions, their virtues, shine brighter than individual glory.

    Prince Qal’talis connected to the Night Mother swiftly. It was as if his life, his tragedy, the bright and open decay of his regal father was example Morinda taught to avoid becoming. The Half-Elf felt her scripture personally and though she was a minor goddess among the pantheon, his heart and soul looped with her religiosity. King Wyenon and Queen Nushala never saw their son again, his title in the public life becoming ‘The Lost Prince’.

    In his congress of fellow devotees, the eager noble learned to hide his radiance and set his bright eyes to the night. Qal’talis learned to be adept through the darkness, to find the courage to intervene among the worst menaces of man kind’s behavior at night. He was part of a network of Morinda who targeted noble houses, robbed them, and donated to the poor. A band of brothers and sisters who murdered those Morinda saw clearly were unjust, and those whose abuse of power sheltered them from consequence.

    He fed the poor, defended them from abuse, drew life from a powerful count, and not a single act ever returned to his name. He was a shade of fair providence, not the center of bard songs or hero worship. In his adulthood Qal’talis was a priest of Morinda, learned in the contenting self-sacrifice the Night Mother encouraged in her devoted.

    In one special night as The Lost Prince lurked from public place to the next under moonlight as one of Morinda’s many scouts, he discovered someone among the downtrodden. There, with tipped yet rounded ears his own, but with the darkest skin to be seen of any Elf was a Half-Drow at a bar pawning off a lion shaped pendant he was shocked to discover.

    He had worn the other half for many years, tucked under his leathers to never reveal his royal past. There was rage, pity, and then sadness for this woman. Yet as he neared the Half-Drow and confirmed it was in fact the other half of the family heirloom he noticed something to her features that was too keenly familiar. It was enough so as to halt his judgments and help the Half-Drow woman to a safe place. Though, as Morinda would expect, Qal’talis kept himself distant he provided her nightly coin to feed herself and studied her often from afar. She was difficult to find at times for she knew herself, learned somewhere to hide in the night too.

    Yet it didn’t take away from the Half-Drow’s reputation. Through the hidden of the Night Mother Qal’talis learned her name was Cailín and her sin was murdering her wizard master before fleeing. There was a great weight on this woman as to kill a politically connected man, regardless of his character, was inherently an inexcusable crime in the eyes of the law.

    In the weeks he watched and cared for her in the distance he reflected on the pendant often, that she had it, that something about her face reminded him of himself. Who was she, more than the killer her reputation told of her? Who was Cailín to him?

    Sadly the peaceful phase of observation was cut as word came to him through the network that the Half-Drow had managed to be discovered that night and was in danger of being taken away by Losam authorities. He rushed to get to her and warn her in time but as fate was his arrival was matched by the arrival of the guards. By association of proximity he was taken too. Because Qal’talis had disappeared long ago many accepted The Lost Prince to be dead or long gone, none of the authorities aware that the man they arrested was to have been at one point their future king.

    Without mercy Qal’talis was branded Forsaken as Cailín and taken far away from Losam. Though he was now far away from the king and queen, his mother and father, was Qal’talis entering his new life with family after all?


    Character sheet link: https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2198632
    Last edited by Minkasha; 05-05-2020 at 01:08 AM.
    Thank you MayhemsCurse <3


    Spoiler: Memorable Quotes 

  5. #15
    Wolf of the Highlands
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    @TsundereSniper
    sorry I had to do this.
    but your inbox was full and wouldn't receive anything else.

    well... as I was trying to say
    don't worry about your lack of experience, because we have three people right here that can make up for it. me, and two others. we also have a third person that, like you, knows almost nothing about what he is doing.

    so. if this works, you'll be able to read this.
    if not, oh well, I'll have to get to you another way.

    so, join or not, up to you.
    this isn't about experience, it's about having fun.
    Stark, the name given to my ancestor for a feat of bravery. It means Strength, or Strong.
    The motto give: fortiorum fortia facta (made stronger and braver)

    I say, let us all be fortiorum fortia facta.

    Spoiler: I'm an Ajin! 

    Spoiler: extra 

  6. #16
    `、、ヽ`☂ヽ`、ヽ`、ヽ
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    name: Cailín
    age: 36
    race: Half-Drow
    Class: Spelltheif
    description:
    Spoiler: Picture 

    This mistrustful lady has almond-shaped eyes the color of blood. Her silky, straight, platinum hair is medium length and is worn in an utilitarian style. She is short and has an athletic build. Her skin is grayish-blue like sea ice. She has a pointed chin. Her wardrobe is limited, mostly dark colors.

    Backstory:
    The twisted plan was devious, which was the only reason Xadar Handbreaker accepted it, despite the personal discomfort she would have to suffer. A pair of enchantments - one to make her look like Prince Wyenon's love, Nushala. And the other to ensure fertility.

    The first worked perfectly, he so believed the Drow to be his wife that he gave her a family heirloom, half of the Lion Pendant. She gave him a glass of wine, to which she had added a dram to ensure his performance, and led him to the bedroom. She left him exhausted and sleeping, while she stole away with the half pendant and more.

    Months later, Xader gave the Wizard Oleus a half-drow baby and the half-pendant, for which he richly rewarded her.

    The girl he gave to his housekeeper, Rose. "Get a wet nurse, and keep her out of my way."
    "Yes, milord," the housekeeper said, taking the bundled child from the Drow. "What's her name, if you don't mind me asking?"
    "Name? What do I care about a screaming cailín?" he said, slipping into the old tongue of his people.

    Rose and the wizard's man, Wolf, raised her. Wolf had a scar running down the right side of his face, from his forehead to his jaw, and an eyepatch. Whe she started crawling on the floor, he would gently press her to the floor to encourage her to crawl flat. Rose, on the other hand, introduced her to hard work, cleaning the tower and tidying the wizard's work tables, teaching her to be useful. She also shared with her details of life in the village below, her trips to the city, and her beliefs in Pulura, the Shimmering Maiden.

    When she was about eight, Wolf started her training - running, climbing, swiming, and fighting. Oleus would spend an hour or two teaching her letters and numbers. About eleven, Oleus would allow her to watch as he worked. If the results were good, he might even talk to her about his work. If the results were bad, he'd scream and break stuff.

    It was about then Rose raised the subject of clothes with Oleus. He looked at Rose slyly, and agreed to let Cailín go into town with her. Neither saw the look the wizard gave to Wolf, or his grim nod back. The town people recoiled as she appeared next to Rose, remember the tales that Wolf had been spreading in the tavern at night, pelting the girl with rocks and worse, driving her sobbing back to the tower where Oleus was waiting for her.

    "I am the only one who can protect you from them," he told her smugly.

    If he expected that to squash her curiousity, he failed. As she grew older, Cailín would slip out some nights and would spy on the sleeping village, noting the people still in the street or the tavern. Rumors began about someone moving around in the shadows. Wolf thrashed her for that, and she became more cautious.

    As she became more knowledgeable, Oleus would have her craft simple things at one of the back work tables. At first, he would fling them against the wall, complaining bitterly about the waste and her clumsy hands, but she didn't give up. Grudgingly, he began accepting her work as 'acceptable' - high praise for him.

    Finally, he called her to his lab, sneering at her for unknown reasons. He pulled out a small box from a shelf, revealing a half-pendant with a lion's head on it, and told her to put it on. he then had her stand in the middle of a casting circle.

    "You're still too weak, girl," he scowled. "I need you stronger."

    The casting circle seemed to burn, and something slipped into her. Her hand rose, unbidden, and she studied it gravely, but it was the Other that spoke in words that burned her.
    "This is the vessel you give me? I'm insulted."
    "You will join with her," the wizard ordered. "You would be bound to my will!"
    "Oh, will I?" The Other mocked. It pulled back, and then she began to choke.
    "No! You will submit!" Oleus screamed, but her eyes rolled up in her head and she collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

    The wizard swore, crossing into the circle to kneel by her. "Blast it, I didn't spend 36 years preparing for naught! You best not be dead, gi...urk!"

    The Other held him in its grasp, choking the wizard with a wirly strength that wasn't hers. "I choose not to submit, petty human."
    "You can't..! I command..."
    "You broke the circle," the Other laughed, crushing his throat with her hand. The wizard stiffened and fell.

    Cailín rose, unsteadily, staring down in horror.

    "We'll call this a favor," the Other whispered. "Now run, girl. I mean to collect my debts."

    The wizard kept some coins in a box on one of the table. She grabbed it, and ran, following the road to the city.

    With the help of a headscarf and some smoked lenses to hide her appearance, she went shopping, buying up what she thought she'd need to start a new life elsewhere. But when she went to get passage on a ship out, she found that she didn't have enough. Reluctantly, she tried the tavern across the street to sell the odd pendant the wizard had given her.

    Strangely enough, nobody wanted it. One man went as far to tell her to never to show that to another, it was too "hot" and there would be too many questions. One half-elf stared at her with a strange intensity that made her uncomfortable, and she darted out of the tavern.

    She would need to steal the money. Cailín decided to check out the weathier neighborhoods, the ones who wouldn't miss a few valuables. As the morning began to rise, she returned to her room, with gear to begin a life a crime - and found a few coins by her bed.

    Someone was watching her, that was clear, but she would only catch a few glimses of a tall figure from the back who was able to slip away unseen.

    So intent on her search for her mysterious benefactor, she missed Wolf, who followed her to the bording house.

    That night, the intent half-elf from the tavern came to her room - and then Wolf and the guards appeared as well, and they were both hauled off to the cells.

    Character sheet link: https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2198654
    Last edited by Enigma; 05-13-2020 at 02:21 AM.
    Spoiler: ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ √Ăłł Єѵïł ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ 

  7. #17
    Wolf of the Highlands
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    Please note.
    I'm at a friend's away from the computer.
    My phone can do RPA, but doesn't have discord.
    I'll be checking for replies.
    Stark, the name given to my ancestor for a feat of bravery. It means Strength, or Strong.
    The motto give: fortiorum fortia facta (made stronger and braver)

    I say, let us all be fortiorum fortia facta.

    Spoiler: I'm an Ajin! 

    Spoiler: extra 

  8. #18
    `、、ヽ`☂ヽ`、ヽ`、ヽ
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    Small shapes with red eyes were attacking the half-human priest. Callín dropped the rope she'd been carrying, pulled out her bow and strung it, getting ready to shoot.
    Spoiler: ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ √Ăłł Єѵïł ¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤ 

  9. #19
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    Name: Ayberk
    Age: 18
    Race: Tiefling
    Class:Magus
    Description: A 5'6", 150 lbs Tiefling with Dark ocean blue hair, and silver eyes, with a skin tone that would resemble something like a redguard from tue elder scrolls games.
    He has two horns that are not very big, due to the his ancestors not reproducing with other Tieflings.

    Backstory: Born into a house loyal to king Wyenon of Losam, that over the years grew ever so distant. It was because of his dirtied blood and timing that got many of the house to blame him for the distance forming between the nobles of the house and the king. As he grew up a woman part of the guard by the name of Saphira, maybe in her late teens was delegated to watch over the young Ayberk, at first the young woman was resentful of this task forced upon her. As the years went by and he grew and started to learn from a few of the servants of the house that did not fear or hate him she started to doubt many of the things said about the boy. At this point the boy did not see this guard as a mother, but as a sister and as the woman embraced the feeling of being a sibling they spent more time together. It was on a fateful day that the boy saw the first beheading of an innocent person though he did not know that at the time, and later learned that from passing rumors from the servants. At this he went to his sister and asked for training, it took many attempts and prompts, but she finally relented and started to teach him of her craft. At this point he started his magus training and would continue to do so for many years, slowly and painfully learning the dangers of weapons and magic, but also the many benefits that came from it as well. Most of the early years of training were just small exercises and workouts, for the purpose of not puting too much stress on himself by starting to lift weights and exercises that contained weights. Once he finished his small exercises he would also learn theory in the form of arcana. She taught him many different things and as the years passed the teainong and theory got harder, until around the age of 18 his sister was killed. He was blamed for her death and sentenced to the path of the forsaken.
    https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2208738
    Spell sheet- https://docs.google.com/document/d/1...t?usp=drivesdk
    Last edited by Broken; 05-15-2020 at 06:09 PM.

  10. #20
    Wolf of the Highlands
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    I'm heading off to an interview. Wish me luck
    Stark, the name given to my ancestor for a feat of bravery. It means Strength, or Strong.
    The motto give: fortiorum fortia facta (made stronger and braver)

    I say, let us all be fortiorum fortia facta.

    Spoiler: I'm an Ajin! 

    Spoiler: extra 

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