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  #31  
Old Sep 10th, 2021, 04:37 PM
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Hi there! I absolutely love horror stories, and couldn't resist submitting an application for this one. I've pretty much finished mine (though I'll probably spell-check it again tomorrow). Please let me know if you need any more information, or whether I should add, or change, or remove anything to better fit the setting. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

Also, regarding Discord; I personally don't use it (for a primarily because I live in Europe; different time zones make it difficult to all be online at the same time for chatting, which sort of defeats the point of using Discord over a forum!slew of reasons), but I certainly don't mind others using it if it helps them coordinate things !

Application
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Basic Character Details
Grey, as he calls himself, is a twenty-three years old male Shifter of the Wildhunt lineage.

Character Class
Monk (Way of the Astral Self)

Appearance
Grey looks out into the world with amber eyes, which seem to almost gleam with patient, predatory cunning. He wears his auburn hair and beard long and unkempt; a choice born of convenience, for Grey's hair grows quickly, and the Shifter can't be bothered to trim it frequently. It also keeps his pointed ears somewhat hidden from all but the most scrutinizing of onlookers. A broad, flat nose, reminiscent of a snout, dominates the center of his face. When Grey opens his mouth, a set of sharp, canine fangs can be spotted among more human teeth.

Muscular and short, Grey has a squat, slightly hunched frame, giving him the appearance of a cornered animal ready to run- or pounce. His back and chest are riddled with scars, scarcely visible beneath a thin layer of coarse hair. On the back of his left hand, he wears a tattoo depicting a stylized bear.

Grey prefers practical clothing, sturdy but loose enough not to hamper his movements. He usually wears a sleeveless grey vest and simple pantaloons the colour of bark, covering it all with an olive hooded cloak. Grey's dark leather boots are sturdy and covered in wide straps fastened by copper buckles.

History
Grey is a recent arrival to Falkovnia, stepping onto the cursed soil of that sinister domain through a misty portal found in his homeland. Ten years prior, the Shifter arrived at the monastery of the dreaming blossom, high in the craggy mountains, claiming to be a wanderer lost on his travels. The barely adolescent Shifter did not provide any further details of his history, and the monks did not press him. The dreaming blossom, they explained, was not interested in matters of a person's past- all that mattered was the here and now. They held that the world as we see it was a lie, and that only one's true essence- hidden underneath a tangle of memories and mortal flesh- held any value. Through meditation and discipline, they sought to pierce the lie and explore one's true self.

Grey, who at that moment in his life felt lost and abandoned, uncertain of who he was, was drawn in by the monastery's teachings. What started as a temporary arrangement, where Grey worked as a gardener and cleaner for room and board, eventually turned into a decade of tutelage under the dreaming blossom.

As a novice of the order, Grey was taught control over his body- discipline, or so the monks believed, was crucial in containing the chaos which was a man's mortal form. Only when one was in command of one's pain and desires could one begin to understand the hidden essence underneath. Unfortunately, Grey never really took to these lessons- he was wild at heart, and indulged his hunger for meat and thirst for intoxicants far too often. This was cause for frequent admonitions from the monks, and eventually, resentment from Grey. Eventually, it was decided that Grey was too undisciplined to truly grasp the temple's teachings, and he was sent out into the wild. Grey's teachers hoped that one day their student would return to them, his inner fire tempered by experience.

Grey, while aware of his master's intentions, still felt slighted. He decided to set out into the world, learning what he could from the places he visited and its people- and, in turn, learning about himself. He never stayed long in one place- possessed by wanderlust, nothing could hold the Shifter's attention for long. And if restlessness wouldn't drive him from a newfound home, his wild heart, or his taste for meat and spirits, ensured the novice monk would be cast out before long. More often than not, a mob of fearful peasants would chase the strange, bestial warrior out of town, after a drunken tavern brawl turned violent and resulted in the deaths of several townsfolk.

Eventually, having travelled dark forests, barren plains and scorched deserts, Grey came upon an abandoned coastal town. When a heavy bank of mist rolled in from the ocean, the Shifter felt strangely drawn to the fog-covered beach. As he came closer, the cloying, wet sand beneath his feet gradually changed to black soil, and dark, dead trees suddenly materialized from the mist. Disoriented, Grey found himself not at the water's edge, but emerging from a black forest, stumbling into fields of grain worked by emaciated, gaunt peasants.

Grey had wandered into Falkovnia. He soon found that the eldritch, haunted realm had trapped him- and that the soldiers who claimed it as their home would not let him return to the mist. The monk, on a journey of self-discovery, had nowhere left to go, nothing left to learn. Enraged, desperate, Grey lashed out against the soldiers and all those around him, until eventually he was driven off by a mob of peasants wielding torches, nooses and hayforks.

For now, the Shifter was able to escape his pursuers, but he remained trapped by the cursed realm in which they dwelled...



 
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  #32  
Old Sep 10th, 2021, 05:12 PM
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Calling Wildfire
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Name: Wisica Softbranch <---- Character Sheet

Race: Ghostwise Halfling

Age: 22

Sex: Female

Class: Druid - Circle of Wildfire

Mechanical Background: Same as Uthgardt Tribe member, but with HalflingsTribe member

Character Appearance: The diminutive personage that is Wisica almost always has a mischievous or whimsical look on her face. Her long auburn hair stays braided most of the time, always when she's working. Aside from the Scimitar hanging from her belt, and the two javelins in the thin sheath hangar on her back, she's only got a pack on her back, a shield in one hand, and her leather armor under traveling clothes. If she's awake, there's probably a fire nearby or she's holding something burning. Fire makes her happy. And beer. Or Ale. Or whatever she can brew up.

Background/History: One might think that Wisica's outward demeanor is typical of that of her tribe that stays deep in the Chondalwood Forest which lies south of the Vilhon Reach. Such thoughts would be quickly dashed if one were to ever be allowed to walk among her Ghostwise Halfling tribe. She's lively, outward going, enjoys a good time in the company of others, and doesn't scare easy. Her tribe is serious, barbarous, hates outsiders, and tends to be more quiet around others. The only two things that ring true with her as that of her fellow tribemates is that all like to have a good time and none scare easily. It might seem odd for those of such small stature, but Wisica likes to say that she's the small package that good things come in.
Having a deeper affinity and love of the wilds than her kin and hin, Wisica quickly stood out. Instead of being wary of fire anywhere but in a controlled environment, she deeply connected to the spirits of wildfire that are so often misunderstood by Rangers, Druids, and the fey alike. Fire washes things cleaner than water, and sometimes it is necessary to destroy in order to let life start anew or make way for new things.
Always in trouble, one such evening had Wisica tracking a chicken that had gotten out - or so she had eluded to her kin. In truth, she had let the poor thing out to walk around. That didn't mean she wouldn't eat it later or in a day or two, roasting it over an open flame, but she had a weakness for the fowl. They seemed to have no fear when they should, and she liked that about them. Others said it was because they were stupid, but she thought it was noble.
So, she wasn't put out at all that she had to go find this noble chicken. She kept getting distracted as she followed its trail and soon found herself in a misty area that just didn't feel right. She used her Druid ability to transform into a Giant Wolf Spider, and climbed up a tree to wait out this mist.
She suddenly found that the tree hand changed under her many legs, and was less thick as what she was used to in the forest.
Higher she climbed and even with her limited vision she saw the hordes of undead coming. A quick look around revealed she wasn't in the Chondalwood anymore. She reverted to her true form, slid to the ground and took off running towards the walled city that was close by. She began throwing fire behind her as the Zombies closed in, and even at one point had a flaming sphere moving back and forth behind her lighting them up to keep them from getting to her.

Almost to the closing gate she saw undead closing in from her left and about to get the locals who were trying to make it inside as well. She transformed into an Elk and rammed undead away from them as she too ran in behind as the gate was closed. People stared at her for a moment as she lowered her horns and leaned against the gate as they slid the massive bar in place to keep the horde out.
She transformed back into herself and smiled. "Does this happen often?", she said, followed by, "Tell me there's ale to drink while we let them deal with that." She pointed up at the guards on the parapets and then to the pounding on the gate.
Later, whilst drinking around a fire, she was approached by those in command of the defenses and asked who she was, how she'd thrown fire about, and changed into an Elk. In between drinks, talk of her Druid teaching from her Pa, and the fires of the wilds, she was asked if she'd go out when things were clear and check on the lands - flora, fauna, and such. She agreed happily - she was drunk - and talked of home as she asked about this place. Asked to tell about where the mists brought her from, she paused and then began to chuckle as she said, "Well, there was this one time that I snuck up and caught this Gnoll's tail on fire. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life. How'd I do it? Why, with this lovely chicken of course." A flame spirit that looked and acted like a chicken sprang up from the fire and began to move around Wisica. It finally flitted out as she passed out.
That was three weeks ago. Now, she's out in what passes for the wilds here, looking for herbs and such for the monthly siege to come.

 
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Last edited by Drachenspirit; Sep 15th, 2021 at 10:47 AM.
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  #33  
Old Sep 10th, 2021, 05:16 PM
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@Chylopan, can we have our characters begin as residents of Falkovnia rather than being teleported in by the mists?
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Old Sep 10th, 2021, 06:07 PM
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Name: Dr. Philippe Brighton

Race: Reborn from Van Richten’s Guide to Ravenloft

Age: 25

Gender: Male

Class: Blood Hunter (Order of the Ghostslayer)

Alignment: LN

Background: Experimental Doctor (from The Black Book if allowed, can change to Hermit if not)
Skill Proficiencies: Nature and Medicine
Languages: Any standard language
Tools: Alchemist’s tools
equipment: Soiled noble clothes, a leather apron, a set of specialized knives, a pouch containing 15 gold
Feature: Grim Connections- Your discreet pursuit has given you experience in finding the“materials” necessary for your experiments. You know where to find hassle-free access to fresh corpses in any city, and how to move them around without drawing too much attention.
Personality traits: I tend to document important events, interactions, and creatures I encounter.
Most doctors practice in the rear camps. Me? I honed my blade in the front line.
Ideal: Progress- To survive we must always grow.
Bond: The implements and tools of my trade hold immeasurable value to me and in their own right.
Flaw: There’s no reason NOT to cut deeper! Perhaps just one more incision will bring to light something new!
Specialization: My work seeks to find a path to immortality more reliable than that of necromancers.

Physical Description: Dr. Brighton carries himself with a quiet dignity that you would expect of an accomplished doctor. His plain floor length lab coat is pristine and buttoned up with a flap over his chest to the right. Brown leather pants have several small pockets for holding small scalpels and other medical instruments. His gloves are a tight fitting thin green cloth. Why green you ask? He just likes how the red blood looks on a green background. It’s an odd preference, but red and black comes off a little too morbid. His black boots are mud stained as if he has been digging or trampling around in the mud. His hair is not quite shoulder length and has turned white from one of his experiments on himself. His face is slightly pale as if he doesn’t get out in the sun very often, but not unpleasant to look at. His expression is usually placid or with a slight tinge of scientific curiosity. Many are often uneasy when he smiles...especially when he’s staring right at them.

Personality: The “Good Doctor” has a pleasant bed side manner when dealing with his patients. His past traveling companions find him very focused when he finds something that interests him. His views on death and life are very matter of fact and sometimes apathetic. “Everybody dies at some point. If they don’t then I must meet them.” His discussions are usually more fact based and inquisitive as he searches for the truth in most situations. He never acts out of emotion or brashness. He is a team player when it comes to completing a task as he views order and efficiency vital to doing something right the first time.

Character Bio: Dr. Brighton is a man obsessed with finding a perfect version of everlasting life after he witnessed half of his village being slaughtered by a group of vampires before they were eventually staked and beheaded by the remaining villagers. Before the last one was killed, Philippe had snuck into the jail where it was being held and talked to it. He was curious as to how old it was and why it had to survive by the blood of others. “It’s all about the blood. Blood is life. We can not produce our own thus we must take it from others. It is like you mortals going without food. It may be ok for a few days, but the longer you go without eating the more desperate you become. The more feral and cruel you are willing to be to eat. We are not so different. I am simply capable of outliving your meager existence. Once moment you are here, the next you’re gone with little to show for it. Life without immortality is simply one circling the drain.”The boy looked at it with curiosity. “May I have some of your blood Mr. Vampire sir? I don’t think you will be needing it much longer.” He poured out the liquid in his water skin and offered it to the captive. It chuckled at the strange request. “As you wish little darkling.”

Philippe’s mind was rocked by this morbid epiphany. What was the point of life if it was to end too soon? Sure there were others ways of staving off death: necromancy, vampirism, becoming a lich, rising to become a deity, and other bizarre methods. All of which were flawed in one way or another. Each had to give something up in return to exist a little bit longer. If the key was the blood, perhaps there was a way to enhance the body and blood to make them rejuvenate forever. Thus he went down the road of medicine and darker practices. Through a combination of ritual and mixing of the vampire blood with other Alchemical substances, he created the Hunter’s Bane. It was an elixir that would enhance his blood and body to hunt down other vampires and creatures of the undead. He needed more blood and parts for his experiments if he was going to succeed at his goal of perfect immortal unrestrained by undeath or disease of the mind or body.

Over the years, Dr. Brighton had moved his lab to the town of Phlan. It had a large enough population to supply him with regular work and dead bodies to experiment on. It had become almost rote for him to slip into the graveyard at night, slip the night watch some gold and wheel a body back to his lab in the basement of the house. Years of careful study was yielding fruit. Spinal fluid was needed to keep the brain regenerating while blood mixed with the proper concoctions could keep the body nourished. The best options for experiments were those with terminal illnesses or wounds desperate for a second chance at life. All of them to date had their lives prolonged for a period of time, but ultimately the procedures failed. He just kept telling himself it was all a matter of time before he made his big breakthrough.

One day, he heard about some ghouls terrorizing a village several miles away. He immediately left to go check it out. Ghoul saliva was said to have paralytic properties that he could use to sedate patients that might have to go under the knife for one reason or another. It was better than having someone have to bear the full pain during an operation. The rumor turned out to just be wild animals much to his disappointment. He she made his way to the Crossroads Inn on his way back to Phlan when some strange mists appeared. After walking for a few minutes, he found himself in a strange land he had never seen before.

 



Last edited by Hiruma Kohaku; Sep 11th, 2021 at 02:10 AM.
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  #35  
Old Sep 10th, 2021, 07:57 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Chrystrom View Post
@Chylopan - I've always wanted to give a Ravenloft type game a try, but haven't had the chance. I do have a Blood Hunter character that I wrote up for another Ravenloft game ad a game, by the way, that you got into while I didn't ) I might just have to dust him off, do some polishing, and tweaking to fit this different Ravenloft setting and see what I come up with.
I encourage you to apply!

Quote:
Originally Posted by Chaucer View Post
@Chylopan, can we have our characters begin as residents of Falkovnia rather than being teleported in by the mists?
Yes, that is acceptable.
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  #36  
Old Sep 10th, 2021, 08:08 PM
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I believe my "fiery" lil' Halfling Druid application is ready.
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Old Sep 10th, 2021, 08:15 PM
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Originally Posted by Drachenspirit View Post
I believe my "fiery" lil' Halfling Druid application is ready.
Gotcha!

Also, good to see ya, Drachenspirit!
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  #38  
Old Sep 11th, 2021, 02:12 AM
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@Chylopan
The “Good Doctor” Brighton app is mostly done minus the character sheet. Any feedback on how it could be better or clarification on anything would be appreciated.

Last edited by Hiruma Kohaku; Sep 11th, 2021 at 02:15 AM.
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Old Sep 11th, 2021, 05:16 AM
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Old Sep 11th, 2021, 05:37 AM
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I believe my app is complete. Please let me know if anything is missing.
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Old Sep 11th, 2021, 07:13 AM
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Darryll Nachtschild

The Basics
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Race: Human

Age: 27

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Class: Paladin, Oath of the Crown

Background: Soldier

Traits:
I am perhaps overly serious, there is little place for levity or humour in my dark world
I appear to be emotionally detached from the situation at hand and my companions

Ideal: I believe that only through the strength of authority will we get through these dark times

Bond: I must uphold my oath irrespective of the consequences of my actions

Flaw: I do not truly believe in my oath. My doubt shakes me to my very core


AppearanceDusky blond hair with a center parting falls lifelessly to his shoulders, yet the would-be knight ignores the state of his appearance as he stands on the front-line to try and drive back the seemingly never-ending hordes of the living dead and the dead living. Mismatched eyes of deep blue and crimson red stare implacably at the fetid mass of decaying flesh that crawl and tear their way through the bloated heap of rotting corpses that lie piled in front of him. They do not reflect the light of life or joy in any form, they are in fact as the creatures that the would-be knight faces every day of his existence ~~ lifeless, empty and hollow. Hollow is a good word in fact to describe the would-be knight. An empty shell made out of skin and bone, a living weapon designed to unfeelingly follow the oath that he has sworn and carve a swathe of blood through the sun-bleached rotting and tearing skin of shambling undeath.

There is no yield in the would-be knight's expression or eyes, hard lines etched across his features that promise a second death for all those who come within reach of his fearsome blade, the deadly greatsword Nachtbringer. One comes near, his sword whistles through the air, cleaving the walking cadaver's head from its body. As it does so, the symbol of the Blood Falcon is displayed prominently across his left hand. Blood splashes across his battered armour of metal that form a protective shield over his scarred skin, metal that...proudly or unproudly bears the faded coat-of-arms of the once great nation that he once called home. And the would-be knight is indeed scarred, not so his face but his body is a mass of faded cuts and scars, a temple of mangled flesh that is a tribute to the never-ending horrors of the dying city of Lekar.

Standing over yet another dead body, another one in a mass of hundreds of thousands, the blood-stained would-be-knight turns his head to his comrade. Opening his mouth, his words are softly spoken, yet no less authoritative for their lack of volume. Indeed, the would-be knight projects an aura of one that has seen too much death, cold, hard and with an expectation that each and every second is his last.

And as yet another malformed and twisted once-human that is now nothing more than leaking slab of red meat lurches mindlessly towards him, he steps forward with the realisation that, indeed, his final seconds approach.


PersonalityThe would-be-knight wishes that he was.....a true knight serving a liege that is honourable and just. A liege that is worthy of his oath. The would-be-knight though, has none of that. He serves in the Talon, the military elite of Vladeska Drakov, to whom he has sworn his oath. The commander is not a person whom the would-be-knight sees often, he is not worthy of her time and attention. Instead he serves her edicts as passed through to him by those in direct contact with Vladeska....and it is that is the core of the moral and emotional morass that threatens to tear the would-be-knight apart, each and every day of his existence.

If the city of Lekar is slowly dying from the incessant hordes of undeath that kill and maim the rapidly dwindling living, the would-be-knight is a shadowy echo of that lingering, slow death on a mental and emotional level. One way or another, he approaches his end, be it at the tooth and claw of a foe that is too numerous to defeat, or at the hands of his merciless mistress when he eventually breaks under her demands. And let there be no doubt, it is a when, not an if. Every person has a limit, no matter how damned or how amoral they may appear to be on the surface. The would-be-knight has his limit, and it is surely fast approaching.

The would-be-knight is a twisted echo of what a true knight would look like, it is a mockery of a chivalrous, courageous knight who follows a king or queen who is worthy of that blind devotion. And it is this paradox, this question of what is right versus what he believes is the right thing to do due to the oath he has sworn that systematically strips away at his heart and soul. The would-be-knight knows right from wrong. He knows that his actions as he runs his sword through yet another deserter or perceived traitor or, worse, brings them in for whatever fate that his commander deems appropriate for crimes both real and imaginary, are inherently wrong. As the passage of years has gone by, and the depradations that he has both been subjected to, and been the instigator of at the command of another have grown worse and worse and worse, the emotional scarring of the young would-be-knight has grown deeper and deeper, in some ways acting as a mirror inwardly to what he is outwardly from the constant toil and fighting. He is stunted emotionally, encasing his true feelings behind a void of nothingness. The would-be-knight has learned at great cost that the formation of emotional bonds and relationships leads to nothing but pain as those attachments inevitably die, one way or another. In that way, locking his emotions far inside of him so he cannot access them is easier ~~ the pain he would feel if they were to come out would be simply overwhelming. They would destroy what little is left of him. In that way, the would-be-knight is simply an empty shell, locked away and clinging onto a rigid code of conduct that has as much come to define him as it has come to destroy him.

He knows he is damned, and will be damned for an eternity and beyond for what he has done in the name of Vladeska Drakov. This is the crux of the matter that threatens to tear away at the young man's humanity, a slowly dwindling humanity that is being worn down as it is trapped inside a prison of word and speech. It is this ~~ this one fundamental question, is my oath worth my humanity, that defines the would-be-knight. It rules his existence, and it entraps him within this prison of his own creation. In some ways, death at the hands of the besieging hordes of fetid death would be a relief for the fatalistic would-be-knight, were it not for fear of what would come beyond when he is judged at the court of whatever deities call this foul realm their own.

It is a judgement that he knows he will be found wanting in so so many ways.

There is no respite in Lekar, not from the hordes, not from Vladeska Drakov. And because there is no respite, there is no opportunity to see the sort of person that the would-be-knight could have been, if circumstances had been different and fate had played a kinder hand for him than it has. Sadly though, the honourable, if idealistic, yet kind-hearted soul that the would-be-knight could have been has never, and will likely never, see the light of day.


BackstoryThe would-be-knight's earliest memories were of death. Indeed, it could be said that death is the one constant through his life, and when he does inevitably die, in some ways it will be like greeting an old friend. He can remember very little of his early life, save for the fact that it was, and always had been militaristic. His mother died in childbirth, and his father was a member of the notorious Talons, the elite military unit under the command of Vladeska Drakov. It would be charitable to say that the would-be-knight was destined from an early age to be knight of the order under Vladeska, except that this particular "destiny" was one that he had no say in and one that was in no way shape or form proud or honourable.

From the earliest he was able to pick up a sword, he trained. Drills upon training upon drills upon training, only the elite soldiers and fighters would be deemed worthy of joining the Talons.

The day that the would-be-knight knelt before Vladeska herself and swore his oath was the only day that his father ever showed any sort of emotion or pride towards his only child. That was the first and the last time that the would-be-knight ever spoke to Vladeska. Although yes, he has seen her from afar and he certainly carries out her orders, they are always through an intermediary or through his own commanding officer. To begin with, the would-be-knight exhibited a sense of pride and exuberance borne from youthful ignorance at his station and being able to do, at least what he perceived to be, useful actions to contribute to the ongoing and ceaseless defense against the marauding cadavers. That soon changed when the acts that he was forced to carry out became more nonsensical at first and then, over time, more and more malicious in deed. Thus was the beginning of the would-be-knight's descent into the world of horrors that was the life of the Talon's, both from a military standpoint, but also from an emotional and mental one. The would-be-knight would not be able to say how many lives were lost due to his orders and deed. How many he killed was countless, for Vladeska was ruthless in her exterminations of those she deemed to be traitorous, whether real or imagined. And with each death that he either executed personally, or at least played a part in, the stains on his soul grew ever deeper and darker.

As the passage of years went by, the would-be-knight would find himself relishing the time that he spent on the front lines fighting the horde as they slowly but steadily advanced on Lekar. Yes, the chances of surviving were grim, but there was a mindlessness to the fighting and to the kill-or-be-killed situation that he found himself in. Whilst he was there fighting, he was not rounding up perceived traitors or, worse still, having time to think about what he had done....what he continued to do. Fortunately there was rarely a moment that he was afforded the opportunity to put down his weapons and think or reminisce about the years gone by. The hordes were relentless and they never ever stopped. A moment of peace, a moment of respite even, and it would have taken the would-be-knight down a deep, dark hole that he feared would swallow him whole over the sins he had committed in the name of his commander. So fight he did, and he continued to do so, day after day after day, and despite the odds of survival being against him, survive he did. Lekar was dying. Of that he had no doubt. The city would fall, there was no way it could do anything but. How could it possibly stand against the neverending horde of the restless dead when they came over over and over and over again? It was only a matter of time. Most would have died already, or at the very least have turned tail and fled the city as it choked inside its own dying embrace, but the would-be-knight could not. To do so would be to forsake his own oath, and that was the last thing that kept him clinging onto blessed sanity with outstretched grasping fingernails.

Perhaps this was his own personal curse. To survive when all seemed against him. To survive when every instinct, every part of his being screamed out at him to embrace death. His own curse was perhaps to be denied the peace of oblivion that he so desired. In a way perhaps this was a good thing. Perhaps what awaited the would-be-knight beyond the void was more dreadful than he could ever possibly imagine.

Days went into weeks into months into years. Each day bleeding into the next until it became an insubstantial blur. The young would-be-knight made friends in that time, of a sort, formed relationships, took lovers but it was all so so so pointless. One way or another, they all died. Died at the hands of the decaying walkers, impaled upon spikes over accusations of desertion or cowardice, sometimes killed at the would-be-knight's own hand. All that mattered was that as the roll of time went by, even as the would-be-knight measured his own life in the sands of time on an hourglass the faces of the living and the dead blurred into one another. The faces of people he once knew, here one day yet dead the next, even as he survived and kept breathing in-out-in-out-in-out despite all odds took their toll on the would-be-knight. During that time his father died, his throat torn out by the yellowed fingernails of a hollowed-out corpse. The emotionally-stunted would-be-knight did not even flicker or register a hint of emotion as he set his own father's body on fire, that he would not come back from the dead as the others did. In his own way, it was a small mercy he granted his father.

Yet even with that, his father continued to haunt him in his nightmares. They all did, the faces of the dead and gone as they hovered over him, pointing accusatory fingers at the one who had either taken their lives, or continued to live in spite of them.

And then the next day begins, the interminable hell beginning anew with the coming of the dawn. This is the would-be-knight's existence, each and every day, trapped inside an endless cycle of violence and depradations that he simply does not know how to even begin to break free from.


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Old Sep 11th, 2021, 09:06 AM
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@Chylopan
The “Good Doctor” Brighton app is mostly done minus the character sheet. Any feedback on how it could be better or clarification on anything would be appreciated.
Awesome, I'll mark it so. I think it's a fine application!

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I believe my app is complete. Please let me know if anything is missing.
Great, also added. These are all shaping up so nicely!

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Once more, added. An interesting concept!

Like I said before, this is going to be a difficult decision. Thank goodness I have some time to mull it over while I prepare, lol.

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Old Sep 11th, 2021, 11:02 AM
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I encourage you to apply!
I'll be working on the app this weekend...probably while I watch some football

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Old Sep 12th, 2021, 09:53 AM
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My application is essentially complete, just doing some final tweaks on the character sheet itself!
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Old Sep 12th, 2021, 10:25 AM
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My application is essentially complete, just doing some final tweaks on the character sheet itself!
Thy will be done. Updated!

It just gets better and better!
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