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  #31  
Old 05-24-2019, 12:57 AM
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Oop, done, by the way! I just noticed the question mark by my name. >.> If there's anything else I should add or work on, do let me know!
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  #32  
Old 05-27-2019, 11:24 PM
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I should be done.
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  #33  
Old 05-28-2019, 09:43 AM
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If no more apps come in by Friday (31st) then I will be making my decisions on the party then.
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  #34  
Old 05-28-2019, 05:00 PM
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Updated app. Still need to do the background.
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  #35  
Old 05-29-2019, 05:18 AM
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Unfortunately, the world is just throwing too much stuff at me to make adding a new game practical, so I'm going to bow out and wish you all the best!
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  #36  
Old 05-29-2019, 12:54 PM
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Just got back to RPGX after a long layoff, so looking to ease back into things. App complete!

Character Concept
right-aligned image

Name: Teveldyn
Race: Half Elf
Class: Rogue (Roof Runner)
Alignment: Chaotic Good

Physical Description:
Teveldyn is a slender, fair skinned man of average height with short cropped black hair and amber colored eyes. His handsome features and slightly pointed ears, combined with his youthful features, denote one with elvish blood though his scruffy chin and strong jawline is unusual among elvenkind. He has a thin nose and thin lips, and small white teeth clearly visible when he wears his trademark cocky smile (which is quite often). He is slightly stoop shouldered as most men who make their living behind books appear, and he speaks with a polished and warm tone of voice. During the day he tends to favor the soft robes, belts, and loose caps of a man of knowledge - often in bright colors such as greens, yellows, and blues. At night, however, Teveldyn favors a set of a loose dark grey shirt and fitted pants, a hooded reversible cloak of black and dark green, soft leather boots, and a black face mask.

Personality:
Many scholars are content with the routine in their lives. Teveldyn is not one of them. Young and a bit restless, he has a deep zeal for danger and excitement. He loves nothing more than scurrying about the roofs and ledges of Sophier, jumping and diving with his adrenaline pumping. Teveldyn has a deep need to prove something and will always partake in a challenge he feels he can win. He is well read but practical, and tends to forget his studies sometimes in order to experience life itself. He is fiercely independent and inherently resents the strict rule and iron fisted grip Sophier has on its citizens, and has recently decided to use his talents to see what he can do about this. Friendly but distant, he has many superficial acquaintances but few true friends. He is brave and cunning, and prefers to use his head and his feet more than his weapons unless there is no other choice.

Background:
Raised in the Sophier orphanage, Teveldyn was bought and apprenticed by an elderly half elf named Dranyth Velnarian, an affluent and kind scholar. Dranyth saw the inherent wisdom and work ethic of the young Teveldyn and, being a half breed himself, felt an attachment to the young half elf and took him under his wing. He taught young Teveldyn the ways of the scholar and how to read the Dwarven script, and soon even speak it. Teveldyn learned the history of both the world and of Sophier itself, and was a quick and willing student with a soft spot for "the old man", as he affectionately calls Dranyth.

However, Teveldyn never forgot his roots in the streets. As a young boy he often stole to survive, and he enjoyed taking risks and seeing what he could get away with (all in fun, of course). Soon he discovered the rooftops of Sophier and how much enjoyment those brought him. He spent many hours of many days running, diving, leaping, and crawling all over every building in Sophier that he could get away with. Occasionally the guards would give chase or harass him, but Teveldyn always found it easy to escape them. Soon his rooftop adventures led to new opportunities to steal things - out of a strange sense of justice however, Teveldyn only focused on those known for their corruption or cruelty. He has since done a handful of small thefts from some of the minor stooges of Sophier, but he has his eyes on stealing from and/or embarrassing bigger targets to fight back against the overpowering rule of his fellow citizens. Less out of a sense of honor, and moreso because it's fun and entertaining.
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Last edited by Grouchy; 06-05-2019 at 06:27 PM.
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  #37  
Old 05-30-2019, 04:03 PM
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Regrettably I must withdraw my App. I only have time for one game, and I just got picked up for a different one.

Have fun guys, this game sounded interesting.
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  #38  
Old 05-30-2019, 04:29 PM
Meschie Meschie is offline
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Name: Zelundir Moonseye
Race: Elf
Class: Unchained Barbarian
Alignment: Chaotic Good

Physical description: Tall, for an elf, Zelundir cuts a striking figure. Hard gray eyes, full of suppressed anger, stare out from an angular face, perfectly suited to his typically stiff visage. Gold locks, tied carefully into three braids, stream down his back. His steps are fluid, almost supernaturally light, his poise speaking of strength, despite his thin frame. He is the picture of fury, tightly bottled.

Personality: Zelundir is, to put it mildly, pissed off. All. The. Time. He hates the career he was forced into, and it shows. That's his most obvious feature. He also loves combat, maybe too much, taking a fierce joy in the fight. He found he likes bars, because fights are frequent, and he gets to see girls, something his mother, once again, did not let him experience(she considered them unnecessary distractions).

Background: When Zelundir was born, his mother had high hopes for him to take over the family business. However, it seemed as if he was born to hold a stick, or any other weapon. Well, he should have been born to another mother. His hated even the idea of violence, believing if nature wished to take a life, then one should just let it. Her views were barely tolerated by the rest of the village, since it meant she would not hunt or participate in the defense of the village, preferring to, as she put it, "Leave the bloodshed to unthinking, immoral oafs. That's all they're good for." Luckily for her, but not her son, her carpentry skills were such that the village (barely) tolerated paying her high prices.

Of course, well, Zelundir was not born with a natural bent towards carpentry. No, he liked hitting things with sticks. Then, he would sneak away and observe the village guards during their training sessions, and bring the things he learned back home. He quickly learned, through several canings (apparently violence was tolerated by his mother if used by her for discipline), not to show Mother what he learned. Her canings did not stop him from continuing to sneak away and learning whatever he could. There was something that felt right about having a weapon in hand, and his natural grace stood him in good stead as he learned the basics. She tried to stop him, when she realized he would go, despite the canings. It became a vicious game, her devising ways to keep him in, and he countering them to continue learning. She would always berate him for having too much of his father in his blood. Oh, she could go on about his father, and the vicious man that he was, always fighting in some war or another. How he left her pregnant and alone, after what she called a small spat, and never returned. Only a letter, she said, just a letter from his fellow ranger saying he is not coming home. That Erastil had taken him. This Zelundir learned when his mother was in her cups, which was often. Canings were frequent when she was, but so was knowledge about his father.

Those times, as harsh as they were, were good times. But they came to an end, a sudden stop. The day after his 137th birthday, his mother said, "Playtime is over. You know a little of the craft; time to learn the rest. Sit down, and take over the store; it's time for your mother to let the young take over and for her to rest." His mother was barely past her three hundredth year. Zelundir was...incensed. His mother was ordering him to take over the store. He did the only thing that came to mind. "HELL. NO." and he walked out, taking his father's old weapons and armor(which he managed to find, despite his mother hiding it).

He ended up in Sophier, with a little training, a lot of anger and no prospects. Such a sunny beginning.

Last edited by Meschie; 05-30-2019 at 04:38 PM. Reason: forgot bolding on Personality
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  #39  
Old 05-30-2019, 04:45 PM
Meschie Meschie is offline
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Um...I noticed a dearth of chaotic or neutral alignments in the applications, and even fewer(if any!) good alignments. Um, I did not see anything in the game summary/description about alignments except nonevil. Did I miss something? Will a chaotic alignment be an issue?

EDIT: never mind; missed the chaotic good and chaotic neutral apps. The last two were both lawful evil.

Last edited by Meschie; 05-30-2019 at 04:48 PM.
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  #40  
Old 05-30-2019, 04:51 PM
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In light of new applicants, I will be keeping the original deadline.

@Meschie Chaotic is not a problem!

@Karl No problem, good luck in your other game!
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  #41  
Old 05-31-2019, 04:26 PM
RacesWild RacesWild is offline
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Name: Connor Jax
Race: Human
Class: Slayer
Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Physical description: Stands about 5'10" emerald green eyes, black hair streaked with silver.
 

Personality: A somber man, not much humor, but when he does laugh, it seems the smile never makes it to his eyes. Sees the world as black and white. He does jobs, and that is all that he needs to know and do.

Background: Connor grew up in the slums, like everyone else. His father was a simple guardsman. He taught Connor how to fight, and left him to his own devices, trusting to his mother to teach him his letters. Connor then learned that reading and writing were not going to put money in their hands nor food on their plates or in their stomachs, so he began hiring out his skills. He has learned to be quick, and to understand that the only loser in a fight is the one who fights fair. The world will become his arena, and all that is in it will be his weapons.

Last edited by RacesWild; 06-03-2019 at 09:25 AM.
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  #42  
Old 06-02-2019, 10:19 AM
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Teveldyn the half elf roof running rogue is now complete.
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  #43  
Old 06-02-2019, 02:14 PM
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The applications table has been updated, sorry about the delay!
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  #44  
Old 06-02-2019, 03:32 PM
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Jim Pennywise
Race: Human
Class: Mesmerist
Alignment: Lawful Evil with a chip on his shoulder.

Physical description:
right-aligned image
In his youth Jim was a tall but sleight man, with a brilliant mane of blond hair. His emerald eyes were the envy of many a man and woman alike. He had a rakish grin and it was not uncommon for people to come into his shop with their only desire being to see the handsome merchant and to hear his enchanting voice, that was thirty years and a lifetime of disappointment ago.

The hunched form of James "Jim" Pennywise now stands at just over five and a half feet tall, although he can summon up his full six feet of height when the occasion commands it. His sleight build has now narrowed to gaunt and his hair, his lustrous, brilliant hair has receded almost entirely and what remains is thin, scraggly white strings that only serve to taunt him with memories of better years. The two physical things he has not lost to the ravages of time are his brilliant emerald eyes and his warm and inviting voice.

Personality: Jim is the consummate merchant, able to fool a room into thinking he is the nicest man in the world while he plots and schemes to take every coin they have ever, or will ever, make. For being such a cold and calculating man it surprises many that he finds violence abhorrent, not for any moral or ethical reason mind you, but simply because there is nothing to be gained from interpersonal violence. War may provide plenty of opportunity for an enterprising merchant to ply his trade but scuffles on the street between vagrants and miscreants only puts money in the pockets of the gravedigger.

Jim is a pleasant conversationalist although he has become slightly more of a codger in his dotage. When he grows tired of someone it's not uncommon for him to simply stand up and totter away, his hunched frame moving with surprising alacrity when the situation demands it. For all this though he does have a soft spot for children. His beloved Nora could not bare him any children so anytime one came into his shop he would give them a free sweet and once a year he gave out toys as well, it didnt hurt that it promoted customer loyalty either.

Background: Born to a penniless farmer and a loving mother Jim's life wasn't meant for anything greater than toiling away in the poor dirt of his ancestors. In his earlier years it was clear the boy was going to grow up to be a handsome man but not one well suited for life on the farm, his hands where soft and he didnt even manage to have his father's wiry muscle. Before he hit puberty a traveling merchant filled his head with stories of all the great cities, places where a man could earn his living not through exhausting his body but through shrewd use of his mind and that was all the boy needed. By the age of ten he had already made his way to Sophier, his parents grieving a lost child but Jim did not give them much thought, he was ready for another life.

The first few years in Sophier the boy got by on scavenging, stealing, and crafting trinkets to sell in the back alley street markets. He was fourteen when he managed to make his first solid deal, an agreement with a local silversmith to sell off the goods the man deemed unworthy of his own shop in exchange for half profit. Jim polished them up and through his charm and wit he was manage to sell them for as much as the silversmith sold his goods. Two years passed and more trade deals were made. At sixteen years of age Jim owned a small shack and had made a name for himself in the marketplace, a name respected by legitimate businessmen and scoundrels alike. It was an open secret that the youth acted as a fence but he had no fear that guards would shut him down, he paid his bribes on time and gave extra to those guards who needed it, mostly when their gambling areers grew too burdensome.

While his business was thriving his personal life was dead in the water. He was beautiful in his youth, too thin to be regarded as properly handsome by most, his features still tending toward the feminine but the hints of his future features promising a man that would look like a bards tale. For this beauty many flirted with him at his shop, young or old, man or woman, it mattered little for the boy only had time for his shop, until he met Nora.

Nora was the daughter of one of the local administrators and the day she came to his life everything changed. She was pretty but no more so than many women who had come into his shop, her voice, her mind, her scent, were all no more memorable nor attractive to him than others who had walked through his door a hundred times but it was exactly that, how she walked through the door, that had his eyes and mind glued to her. Nora walked in not like she owned the place, but like she owned the world. She bought a bottle of perfume from him that he had gotten off a thief who had taken it from some rich merchants wife and he thought that would be it, that she was gone from his world forever and only the memory of that walk would remain with him but a week later she came back in and bought a trinket that was obviously below her station. Another week and she bought a small porcelain doll. One more week and she bought a a silver spoon. This continued for three months before Jim finally asked her to go to dinner with him.

A year later and the two were married, Nora's father offered to buy them a new home and a shop but Jim refused, he would not be indebted to anyone, even his father in law. Nora got pregnant in the first year but nearly died from a miscarriage. After that the two never again attempted to have a child and instead focused on their shop. They upgraded to a proper shop at the age of twenty-five with a suite of rooms above. It was the life Jim had always wanted, the thrill of undercutting other merchants until he pushed them out of business as great an extacy to him as swinging a sword was to any adventurer. He played the game of Sophier and he played it well, the guards never bothered him and those he had done favors for in his early years paid him back in full by putting competitors out of business and making sure Jim was in the right position to cut in and take up the slack.

Twenty years passed and the two wanted for nothing save for a child but even that pang was dulled by time and the constant stream of smiling young faces that came into their shop. Time did not leave the two untouched though and Nora had begun to show the signs of a wasting illness, another five years and Jim stood over Nora's grave crying in the rain. Ten years passed and his life returned to normal all until that one fateful day when his life was stolen from him.

CheckmateThe day started as most since Nora's passing. Jim walked to the gravesite before the sun rose and put a tulip on her gravestone, she always did love tulips the most. He wiped away what little dirt had managed to build up overnight and then returned to his shop to open up for the day. Business was booming, a fresh shipment of silks had come in from the East and every merchants daughter wanted a bolt of the cloth. It wasn't till midday that things began to change from his usual routine. The business began to slow and finally stop as Leutinant Roger's and a few of his men entered.

"Hello Jim. I see your not slowing down in your old age." The old man's face broke into a wide grin as he looked up at the armored man. "Hale and hearty as always Steven. What brings you and your men to my shop on this lovely day?" The guard shook his head and let a deep sigh escape from his helmet. "Bad news I'm afraid. The proper owner of this building is laying claim to it." "...What?" The Leuitenant lut his left palm out and the accompanying soldier placed a scroll into it. "Seems this building is owned by an elvish family, they never consented to it being sold and the one who sold it to you did it fraudulently. He has already been drawn and quartered. You couldnt have known so you wont be punished however your goods are to be surrendered and your coffers given to the family for the back rent on the shop."

The old man took the scroll and sat behind the counter on his stool, his hands going numb as he unrolled the scroll and read the words written upon it. When he was finished he let the scroll coil up as his mind tried to process what he had just read. "Sorry Jim. Wanted to be the one who broke it to you so you at least had a familiar face. I'll let you keep a pair of clothes and a few coins, least I can do for all you've done for me and mine, but you have till the end of the day to be moved out." "This is all I have left of Nora Steven. I cant lose this shop." "I know Jim but you know how the game is played, just this time someone finally beat you at it." The old man huddled tighter into himself and let a few tears drop down his cheeks, something the guards kindly chose to turn away from, before wiping his eyes and standing up, putting the scroll back into the hand of the Lieutenant. "I'll be out in an hour. Please leave me." The guards nodded and walked out, the gentle ring of his bell sounding the death knell for his shop, his life.

The old man moved swiftly to lock the door then gathered his favorite robes and a small pouch of coins. He didnt need an hour for sentiment, he needed an hour for his counter stroke.

The old man melted every candle in the shop and poured them into a tall tube with a wick that ran the length, at its base he piled every dry scrap of parchment and dry cloth he could. The old man lit the wick and for the first time in a very, very long time his eyes began to shine, the green swirling through every shade as the candle before him was replaced with a simple wooden box. "No one beats me at the game, stalemate my foe, stalemate."
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Last edited by MundayKnight; 06-05-2019 at 10:32 PM.
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  #45  
Old 06-04-2019, 06:31 AM
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I am now setting a hard deadline for Sunday 9th of June at 6pm GMT. It's a little earlier than planned but I want to start the campaign rolling before too long.
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