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  #31  
Old Jan 6th, 2016, 01:46 PM
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Just realized I did miss one question:

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Originally Posted by Nostrus View Post
For the purposes of additional languages, would it be known whether the demons can speak and comprehend languages and if so, which languages they know?
As far as anyone can tell, the demons don't speak. If they are capable of forming understandable sounds other than the roars of wild beasts they have never done so, nor have they shown any reaction to anything that has been said that would indicate they are capable of understanding. Of course, no serious attempts have been made to talk to them as far as anyone is aware, as these would quickly be cut short by the person in question having their throat ripped out.

Of course, this isn't exactly common knowledge outside of the colony either, so it's questionable your character would know this.
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  #32  
Old Jan 6th, 2016, 04:42 PM
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Slightly updated, lacking only a description of my crimes and a roleplaying sample.
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  #33  
Old Jan 6th, 2016, 07:41 PM
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Richard Valoren all finished up.
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Old Jan 6th, 2016, 11:19 PM
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Application
Name: Virgil (aka Vrrgll) Redweather
Gender: Male
Race: Human (Grippili now)
Appearance (two weeks ago) A devilishly attractive man in his early thirties, with a chiseled face and a flowing mane of auburn hair to the center of his back. Eyes, hazel at one point in his life, glow with flecks of coal red fire. His body is a map of violence, with dozens of minor scars, old bite marks, and scorch marks carving a history of pain over his flesh. Standing at nearly 6'4", his massive chest heaves with every dark laugh, the blackened metal plates of his armor scraping with each chuckle.

(a week ago) A thin, gangly creature of little over 2 feet huddles in a crouch, trembling under a ragged cloth. His slippery greenish skin looks sickly, pockmarked with a hundred different tiny scars from head to splayed toe. His eyes goggle out from under the rags; bright, hazel eyes full of intelligence and uncertainty.

Personality Virgil would give all he had to be back in the good graces of... anything. He craves redemption, but has no idea where to start. The horrors of the last few years are burned into his memory and soul, years of violence, lust, gluttony and seething anger. Before, he was a kind and loving soul, full of the spark that made others wish to be kind as well. It is still there... buried deep under a layer of self-pity, self-loathing, and fear.

Background Three years ago, Virgil lead a small band of adventurers into the deep caverns of the Un'duloth'Aerie, a dark elf bastion where an artifact of power was divined to reside. The band fought through enslaved umber hulks, drow scout parties, and an ancient aboleth looking for slaves to procure the artifact for itself. With the arcane magics of his good friend Fendaron, Virgil's band assaulted the drow keep and cut a swath of blood to the epicenter of a grand ritual. Upon an altar, stacked on tiers of bone, lay a umbral crown of darkness, absorbing the light around itself from countless candles. Behind him, Virgil heard a cry for help--his friend Fendaron was held captive, a curved adamantine blade to his throat. Around him were other prisoners--dozens of children from halfling to elf, all brought forth under swords and knives. They mewled and sobbed, trails of tears washing dirt down their bruised and soiled faces. "Don the crown, Virgil, or we will slay all of these innocents." The voice was smooth and feminine, worming it's way into Virgil's ears and thoughts. "Your... holy wisdom..." the voice purred, "...will no doubt lead you to the correct decision." A woman of unnatural grace and beauty stood at the top of the altar, naked curves dripping with blood in the flickering candlelight. She smiled, flashing perfect white teeth and a pair of vivid crimson irises with black sclera. Virgil's brain furiously fought to find a way to work around the trap he had fallen into, and something just didn't feel right. Without the counsel of his friends, Virgil was as good as dead here. That's right, my friends! "Let Fendaron go, and I promise to don the crown." Surely Fendaron could do something to help, he knew all sorts of things about artifacts and the arcane...? The voice chuckled softly, echoing off of the distant walls of the inner sanctum. "As you wish, knight." The drow released the wizard, who stared at Virgil with wide, terrified eyes. Stepping up to the altar, Virgil slipped his helm under his shoulder and nervously slid his fingers up to the cold metal of the crown. It was colder than ice, and black tendrils slipped down his fingers as he gripped it from it's pedestal. Turning to look at Fendaron, he slipped the crown over his brow. At once, the power flowed into his body and locked him deep within his own mind, a prisoner within himself. Watching through eyes that were no longer his own, Virgil saw Fendaron flash with fire, a cackling creature of bone and sinew taking his place. All around the room, visages of children burned away to hopping monsters with wings and stingers, all hooting and screaming.

Three long years passed, and Virgil was no longer the man he once was. Violence, rape, torture and hedonism became the norm as the creature within Virgil stormed across the surface, destroying cities in the name of one army, then in the name of the other. Seeding chaos and feeding on souls, Virgil's soul became numb. The holy spark had left him--he was no longer a great paladin. He was barely a man.

Entranced in another fit of passion, the thing that wore Virgil's skin did not feel the tug of magic behind him until it was too late. Fendaron stood defiantly, an ancient book in one hand, an ash-blackened skull in the other, and he called him. "Wraxus, by your true name do I bind you within this skull. Wraxus, release this man whose soul you hold prisoner. Wraxus, your time upon this plane is done!" The crown upon Virgil's head burst into seething, screeching vapor that streaked into the skull's eye sockets. The ex-paladin, barely a shred of his former self, laid nearly comatose on the floor. "I am sorry old friend," Fendaron said, kneeling before Virgil, "you got away from us three years ago. I wish I could better explain, but this is all I can do to help you. Your face is well known, and your sentence in civilized lands is death." Pulling a long scroll from his pack, Fendaron continued. "This will help to pull some of your mind back together, and the rest of the spell will change your body. After that... I know of a place you can escape to, where no one will think to find you. I hope you can find your way back." As the scroll burned away in a bright indigo flame, Virgil felt... alive again. Wide, goggling eyes peered up at his old elven friend, and even as he began to croak "Hello!" the world began to shift away. It was dark, and all around him were others huddled in ragged cloaks, being driven in a cart to some unknown destination.


 

Roleplay sampleConsidering we are incarcerated at the beginning of the game, this is just a few imagined scenarios to showcase some of Virgil's personality and outlook on the prison.

 


 


 

Another Prisoner Ferrin Geist was the kind of man fresh vampires aspired to be like. Brooding, bloodthirsty, and silent, Ferrin had a habit of cannibalizing those who made things difficult for his mining band. It was a fixation he had picked up in the months that the food had stopped and hadn't felt the need to quit. Half of his stocky, dwarven face was tattooed to look like a skull, all the way down to his shaven chin, and his crew had taken to blackening their eyes with soot to mark their affiliation. Ferrin had abandoned the desire to leave years ago--this place was a rotten peach, but a peach Ferrin intended to pick. Besides, there was little to keep him from asserting himself; so long as his team brought in plenty of ore, he could sit pretty on their backs. Today though, Ferrin did something different, something he hadn't done since he arrived.

Today he smiled.

One of the new recruits had heard something very interesting: Virgil was coming, the man who he owed his current estate to. Six years ago, Virgil crushed Ferrin's warband in the hills south of the kingdom. Six years ago, Ferrin used his contacts to buy his way out of a death sentence and hide himself on a prison train bound for Krakengard. And now, today, Virgil was on his way here. As a prisoner, no less.

Other infoVirgil is meant to be a 1st level ex-paladin. The years of being possessed have torn away his faith and experience, leaving him a bare shadow of the man he was. I know grippili is a very... bizarre race, but I could think of nothing weirder to change him into. However, it isn't necessary that he even be a grippli. I attribute it to my old love of Chrono Trigger.

Last edited by Tiax; Jan 29th, 2016 at 09:39 AM.
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  #35  
Old Jan 7th, 2016, 01:24 AM
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Dimitri Abandonato
Dhampir Investigator
Rogue Constable to Serve Sentence in Krakengard!

Disgrace: Extortion, Assault, Theft, Conspiracy

The Who
Appearance


Dimitri is no spring chicken. Contrary to his elven blood, age and the curse of his lineage has indeed caught up to him. While he still has an athletic build, it has softened noticeably in the middle. He is nearly six feet tall but because of his posture, shoulders stooped by years of bearing the weight of corruption and vice, he tends to seem shorter. No matter how quality the clothing, he always manages to make them look slept in.

His hair is receding and gray at the temples. Cropped short, it still somehow comes across as disheveled and untended. His beard is the classic 5 o'clock shadow, except when it's more of a 9 o'clock shadow. His face is one of angles, high cheekbones and a strong jaw that frame light blue eyes, dark brown skin and a spattering of small scars from beatings given and returned. Lines at the corners of his eyes and lips speak of years lived and loves lost.

Personality

Dimitri is partial to strong opinions, gray morality and creature comforts. He grew up with a fierce belief in good and bad and a desire to pursue the former. His time in the constabulary reinforced that at first, with each solved case seeming to lighten his soul. But seeing death and cruelty, day in and day out, began to put cracks in his black and white outlook. From The Towers evil seemed so easy to spot but down in the muck everything is a little blurry.

Then he made mistakes and that strict moral code got a little more flexible. While the downward spiral may have stabilized as of late, he's no longer the justice and law type. He can't afford to be. He's dealt with criminals a long time and he knows that there are going to be some ugly compromises waiting for him through that portal. Compromises he's already been too willing to make.

What he isn't likely to compromise on is treating himself. Prison may be hellish but some people have to live better than others. He intends to find those people and reach out a hand, either to pull himself up with them or drag them down to him. Every step takes him closer to freedom and freedom leads to revenge. There will be danger at every turn, a knife for every back, and chances aren't great that he'll make it out alive.

Still, Dimitri's not worried. He's got a constable's instincts and a pocket full of people skills on his side. He's done more with less.

The What
Background


The common adage is that magic runs in the blood of elves. Nowhere is that adage more accurate than Palaiis. An elven city from the oldest days of the modern empire, and much further back if you believe the elvish histories, it has long been the seat of power for elf culture. Nobility, delineated by bloodlines strong in magical prowess, rule over the populace from towering estates connected by a network of bridges. What began as a defensive measure slowly developed into a tactic of isolation, ensuring that nobility never had to rub elbows with the common rabble by providing sky-based travel to all the important places. The Towers, as the estates and recreations of the rich came to be known, expanded to the extent that they choked most of the sunlight out of The Base, where the craftsmen and laborers built homes into the bottoms of the support structures and navigated the swampy area on flat-bottomed skiffs.

Dimitri's family was among the more powerful in both arcane and social influence, notwithstanding rumors about ancestral ties to dark powers. It was quite a scandal when he showed little to no magical ability as a child, moreso when he began to exhibit signs of the family's curse more strongly than any had in generations. Desperate to cement his place in society, a young Dimitri turned his attention to academics and alchemy. His keen mind dealt with the puzzles of alchemy easily and his ability to put together concoctions for a variety of purposes made him useful enough to keep around but not enough to inherit a title. It was fine by him, having learned at a young age of his family's criminal interests and wanting no part of it. Even the foremost school of thought among Palaiis' elite, that anything could be justifiable to ensure your power, would implicate his family's dealings as questionable. Turning away from the nobility in his teenage years, he began to wile away the hours in The Base where he developed a predilection for picking out subterfuge and found the limited sunlight to his liking. A few beatings by card cheats and philandering husbands later, he walked into the office of the local constabulary and demanded a job.

Unlike the guard, who patrolled for and intervened in crime, the constables solved crimes that had already occurred. It took him little time to prove his worth and gain a position among them. Sure, they were in the pocket of the nobles but they were the line between the law abiding and the criminal. Do some good from the inside, he told himself. You can stand up against anything they throw at you. And for awhile he did. Brought murderers and thieves to justice, broke up criminal organizations and woke up each day with a purpose. The heavy shadow on his heart, that whispered darkness he'd grown up in the embrace of, felt distant for the first time in his life. He even met a girl and got married. They were going to have a kid. Then it all went away and life lost its color.

Time has a tendency to wipe the shine off youthful exuberance and debt makes an honest man's salary seem a pittance. His preference for fine wines and soft pillows didn't fade when he left The Towers. The moral compromises were minor at first. Look the other way on a smuggled shipment of Qualo leaves, pressure a local merchant to sell his wares cheaper to a specific set of scumbags, tamper with evidence in a robbery case. It kept him in the luxuries he grew up knowing and it seemed harmless enough.

The worst thing about corruption is that you never see it coming when it happens to you. Dimitri can't remember exactly when but at some point he crawled so deep into his family's pocket that he couldn't see daylight. His brother Alistair, head of the Abandonato's criminal empire, preyed first on his familial bond, then on his grief, and finally on his Qualo addiction. Grind the leaves up and sprinkle them in alcohol for a mellow ride into a land of no troubles. In time Dimitri was struggling to justify his actions with the rewards they brought. When he found himself in the seediest burg of The Base with his hands around a young man's throat over a gambling debt, he realized he couldn't go on. Unfortunately, his brother was prepared for just such a shift in the wind.

The guard took him into custody on his way to his family's estate. Instead of cutting ties with Alistair, he ended up jailed for betraying the trust of the people of Palaiis. The evidence was all there in an easy-to-follow trail that his brother laid out, having kept proof of the sleuth's crimes safely hidden away until they were needed. Shipping records he'd doctored, testimony from merchants he'd strong armed. Alistair even took the stand to spin a line about how Dimitri had been extorting money from the family for years. That crime was the only one he was innocent of, and that made it the most infuriating. Losing his cool and breaking his brother's jaw in court pretty much put the last nail in his coffin. He briefly considered arguing against it, turning over his evidence on Alistair's wrongdoings and throwing himself on the mercy of the court. After all, the 'anything goes' mentality in elven politics only applies if you avoid getting caught. There is more shame in a failure to hide your deeds than there is in committing the deeds themselves. A knuckle-heavy visit from a fellow inmate while he was held for trial reminded him that he wouldn't survive long enough to enjoy his freedom if he went turncoat. Knowing that Alistair was never one to leave loose ends, and taking the blame for a large portion of the family's criminal activity made him a pretty big one, Dimitri realized he was out of options.

Once he knew he was sunk, he made some desperate maneuvering and called in all the favors he could to ensure he would be sent to Krakengard prison rather than a regional elven institution. Whether Alistair has let him live out of brotherly love or some strategic maneuver, Dimitri isn't willing to wait for the crime lord to change his mind. If he can be safe anywhere, and it isn't likely he can, Krakengard would be the most removed place from Alistair's influence. That, and fewer of the criminals he'd worked to put away would be there. He'd been outmaneuvered and lost everything. The only way he could stand a chance of turning things around and inflicting righteous retribution would be to survive.
The When, Where and Why
Roleplay sample

Dimitri tips back the flask, letting the liquid burn its way down his throat as he considers his options. Perhaps spiking his extracts with dark brew wasn't helping things, but that was a question for another day. Three men had entered the secluded back entrance to Mag's in the last hour and hadn't returned. That could only mean the meeting was moving forward in full. Logic dictated he should take a cautious approach. An extract to hide his features and he could slip inside, listen to everything and make a case. No, not this time. These were the worst scum, stealing Base-born children for labor. This called for a different tactic, and one he was comfortable with. Flexing his hands, he watches the skin thicken as the extract take hold. Stalking across the street, he steps up the door and gives it a heavy-handed knock.

"Who dat?" It was more a grunt than a question, the kind of enunciation one could expect from a half-bred orc. The syndicates in Palaiis used them for scut work. He'd never met one he didn't like...to beat on. Dimitri waited, counting down from three. He heard a boot scrape on the other side, then the door groan as someone put weight on it. Checking the view hole, no doubt. His foot came up suddenly and hit the door with the full weight of his body. The latch snapped at the impact and the sap on the other side got a mouthful of door. He hit the ground, collecting his wits just in time to see the investigator's sap coming. His head caught the sap first, the floor second and then nothing mattered. A second man, this one repulsively human, rounded the corner into Dimitri's path and the investigator let his fists speak. Two quick jabs rocked the thug's head back but he lashed out with a right hook that caught the constable in the side. The elf feels the sap slip out of his fingers but he pushes forward, catching the human with a shot to the gut that doubles him over and then a final hook to the jaw that puts him on the floor. While Dimitri was sucking in a breath and holding a hand to the sharp pain that punch left along his ribs, a voice called out from the backroom.

"Corian? What's that racket?" He knows the voice. Trevi Gunnoit; murderer, thief, crime boss. That meant Yor Havas would be in there, too. They were doubtlessly scheming on another way to profit off elven misery. Kneeling by his fallen foe, he snatches up the man's short blade and tests the weight. His hands were soft again, but the blade was plenty firm for this business. Now would be the time for him to step in, announce his presence and his role. If he were here as a constable, this would be the time for an arrest. Unfortunately for Trevi, he was here on someone else's orders and those orders were very clear. His steps are heavy as he makes his way into the meeting. Into the killing room.
Bonus RoundAstrid wasn't born to crime. Her family lingered in The Towers just like Dimitri's. Not at the top, but high enough to see sunlight. But Astrid wasn't the type to rest on her laurels and feed off her family's accomplishments. She wanted to do something, make a reputation for herself that went beyond her surname. She was gifted with magical prowess and received tutelage from a young age. When she was older, she put that skill to use bending minds and twisting hearts. Enchantment and illusion became her weapons of choice in a bid to rob every proper elven gentleman, and a fair number of proper elven gentlewomen, she could get her hooks into. She's a consummate liar with a talent for disguise who knows her way around a good vanishing act.

It took Dimitri years to connect all the threads and build a case against her. It took him months to track her down after she fled her luxurious home topside for a bolt-hole in The Base. He got two scars for his efforts, deep knife wounds to the lower back, and three guardsmen lost their lives. But he got her, and he testified at her trial with a smile she couldn't bear to see. When she escaped custody after her conviction, she was sure it was the last she'd see of the constables. She fled to human cities to ply her trade and did well for a few years before things went south again and she wound up in Krakengard.

The good thing about being a criminal who relies on your wits and charm is that nobody can take those away from you, even in prison. She may be locked up, but Astrid has plenty of new hearts and minds to twist. Gathering a loyal band of followers wouldn't be a real strain on her abilities. And should she get wind of a constable in the city...well, let's just say I'd hate to be that guy.
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Last edited by PopCultureBard; Jan 28th, 2016 at 06:54 PM.
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  #36  
Old Jan 7th, 2016, 10:53 AM
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I'm very intrigued by this campaign concept - like a combination of Gothic & Peter Brett!

Now, three quick questions:

1) I have 0 Pathfinder experience. How happy are you to work with newer players in your campaign? My background is mostly in 5E & Dark Heresy/Call of Cthulhu/Paranoia!, and I hear PF can be tricky mechanically compared to those games D:

2) For the purpose of magic, rituals and the like, how available are reagents? Fx, would an Alchemist has access to appropriate equipment off the bat, or would the find of and access to be something of a plot point/adventure. Same goes for wizards etc etc.

3) What is the campaign scope in terms of levels & general 'power'? We obviously start off small and there's a strong horror/survival element with the demons/general isolation/trapped with potential loons and criminals (including us c: ) - will this theme stay throughout? I personally enjoy bleeding out and the slow susurrus of insanity, but that may be too much WoD & Call of Cthulhu speaking.

Last edited by Die; Jan 7th, 2016 at 10:54 AM.
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  #37  
Old Jan 7th, 2016, 02:11 PM
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Before I get to specific questions, I was asked elsewhere whether I will be doing reviews of applications. Short answer: Yes. Slightly longer answer: You can always ask me to take a look at specific details, but in addition to that, you can at any point that is at least one week before the deadline, ask me to read through everything you've got and give you a review, to let you know where you stand. Obviously, the more complete it is at that point, the more you will likely benefit from this. If you ask less than a week before the deadline I'll do my best to get you in, but I make no promises, as I might always get slammed at work or otherwise not be able to make the time.

Quote:
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I'm very intrigued by this campaign concept - like a combination of Gothic & Peter Brett!
Curses, someone has identified two of the major sources of inspiration at last

Quote:
Originally Posted by Die View Post
1) I have 0 Pathfinder experience. How happy are you to work with newer players in your campaign? My background is mostly in 5E & Dark Heresy/Call of Cthulhu/Paranoia!, and I hear PF can be tricky mechanically compared to those games D:

2) For the purpose of magic, rituals and the like, how available are reagents? Fx, would an Alchemist has access to appropriate equipment off the bat, or would the find of and access to be something of a plot point/adventure. Same goes for wizards etc etc.

3) What is the campaign scope in terms of levels & general 'power'? We obviously start off small and there's a strong horror/survival element with the demons/general isolation/trapped with potential loons and criminals (including us c: ) - will this theme stay throughout? I personally enjoy bleeding out and the slow susurrus of insanity, but that may be too much WoD & Call of Cthulhu speaking.
1) I have no problem whatsoever working with newer players. I have no experience in any of the systems you mentioned, however, so I can't really tell you whether it is tricky mechanically compared to those. But I'm certainly willing to help you out with mechanics while you learn the ropes.
2.) Let me start with wizards and other spellcasters reliant on a spellbook: Those would definitely go in without a spellbook and acquiring one would be the first part of their adventure for sure. Alchemical equipment sort of falls into the same category and would probably have to be acquired first in some way (though there would be various ways of achieving this). Alchemical/Spell components I would probably consider less of an issue.
3.) The theme is definitely going to last for a while, but your characters will have the possibility to grow throughout. Level sort of depends...the most likely end for this game I envision would be if the PCs escape from the colony. But what level that happens, if at all, is definitely up in the air and will depend heavily on the players choices. I see this game going at least until level 5, probably several levels higher. Probably not way over 10 though unless things go very differently than I expect. So the horror/survival element will most likely permeate a lot of the game, but you should eventually grow out of the stage where your only options are keeping your head down and running.

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  #38  
Old Jan 7th, 2016, 02:39 PM
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I would love a review of where I stand with Virgil, Inem!
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Old Jan 7th, 2016, 03:03 PM
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Ditto, please, master Inem.
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Old Jan 7th, 2016, 03:14 PM
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Is that... is that Idris Alba, PCB?

My God, what a world this is going to be. I cannot approve enough.
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Old Jan 7th, 2016, 03:19 PM
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I certainly would mind a review
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Old Jan 7th, 2016, 04:02 PM
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I certainly would mind a review
You would mind a review? Well sheesh, I didn't mean to offend anyone by offering

In all seriousness, I will try to get to the reviews soon, but I'm currently swamped by a lot of things falling together at the end of this week and I'm still working on catching up with everything. I doubt I'll find the time before the weekend to read entire applications...
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Old Jan 7th, 2016, 04:23 PM
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Eachan Delras Eachan Delras is offline
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Thanks, its understandable. We all have work to get done.
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Old Jan 7th, 2016, 07:41 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Sassafrass View Post
Is that... is that Idris Alba, PCB?

My God, what a world this is going to be. I cannot approve enough.
Yup. So I have this weird habit of scanning pictures when I want to come up with a character idea. I stumbled across this picture when I was looking at celebrity faces and saw a haggard detective. The whole character idea kind of grew out of that. Then I just needed a black and white, somewhat somber image to reflect my vision and the search led me to the other one. Similar story for a few of my current tribe.

Also, I concur. Giving the players reign to craft sections of the outside world as setting for their backstories was a really solid idea. There is some cool material presented in these apps.
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Old Jan 7th, 2016, 07:49 PM
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Thats good cause I need another day or two to finish my backstory anyway.
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