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  #16  
Old Jun 7th, 2021, 03:07 PM
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Great Thanks, its more for roleplay and to go along with his character image than anything LOL.
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  #17  
Old Jun 7th, 2021, 10:54 PM
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Application
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Name: Vladimira Petrov

Race: Human Variant

Class: Rogue-4 (Scout), Fighter-1 (Striving for Champion)

Alignment: LN

Background: Muscovy, Earth 13th CenturyFar Traveler
  • Personality Traits: She speak with an accent nobody recognizes.
    The events she survive traumatizes her, and the phantoms of her past haunts Vladimira's dreams.
  • Bond: Her Marriage Promise Ringtrinket is a symbol of Vladimirra's past life, and she carry it so that she will never forget her roots.
  • Ideal: Inquisitive. Everything is new to Vladimira but she has a thirst to learn.
  • Flaw: Grim. Vladimira can’t conceal her misery and it makes others uneasy around her.

Description:
 


Personality:
 


Backstory:
 


RP:
 

OOC
 

 

Last edited by Shula; Jun 16th, 2021 at 05:24 PM.
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  #18  
Old Jun 7th, 2021, 11:40 PM
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@JaredSyn

My hound is bigger than your pseudodragon...

Just saying pal.

We seem to run into each other everywhere.
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  #19  
Old Jun 8th, 2021, 07:16 AM
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@Shula I am all over the place like cockroaches can't get rid of me. YOur hound is probably heavier than my character and psuedodragon combined.
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  #20  
Old Jun 8th, 2021, 01:46 PM
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New to RPGX but not to PBP.
Consider me interested. Application to come soon.
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  #21  
Old Jun 11th, 2021, 04:45 PM
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Reginald Jeeves

Name: Reginald Jeeves
Race: Variant Human
Class: Rogue (Mastermind)
Personality Traits: I have a strong sense of fair play and always try to find the most equitable solution to arguments.
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Bond: I protect those who cannot protect themselves (Mostly, this has been my former Masters!)
Ideal: Respect. People deserve to be treated with dignity and respect.
Flaw: I can be TOO humble!
Physical Description: In appearance, Jeeves has been described as "tall and dark and impressive". On multiple occasions, his Master states that Jeeves has "finely chiselled features", and a large head, which seems to him to indicate intelligence. As his master has told his peers, Jeeves is "a godlike man in a bowler hat with grave, finely chiselled features and a head that stuck out at the back, indicating great brain power". Jeeves's eyes seem to gleam with intelligence.

Personality: Jeeves aims to be helpful and will devote much time and effort to solving his masters personal problems despite not being obliged to do so. Proud of being a valet, Jeeves is evidently offended when a revolutionary tells him that servants are outdated.
Jeeves often shows sympathy and others. He generally manipulates situations for the better and is described as "a kindly man". However, he will influence others decisions to suit his own preferences
Often wearing "an expression of quiet intelligence combined with a feudal desire to oblige", Jeeves consistently preserves the calm and courteous demeanour of a dutiful valet, and hardly displays any emotions. When he feels discomfort or is being discreet, he assumes an expressionless face which has been described as resembling a "stuffed moose" or "stuffed frog". When very surprised, he will raise his eyebrow a small fraction of an inch, and when he is amused, the corner of his mouth twitches slightly. His composure extends to his voice, which is soft and respectful. When he wishes to speak without having been spoken to or is about to discuss a delicate subject, he makes a low gentle cough "like a very old sheep clearing its throat on a misty mountain top". He may also cough to signify disapproval.
Jeeves is persuasive and magnetic, there is something about Jeeves that seems to soothe and hypnotize, making Jeeves effective at calming down an irate person.

Background/Backstory: Folk Hero - Valet
Little is known about Jeeves's early life. According to Jeeves, he was privately educated, and his mother thought him intelligent.
In his youth, Jeeves worked as a page boy at a school for future military officers, where books were readily available to him, and even as a mere servant, was encouraged to read when his chores permitted. He apparently served in the military itself to some extent, Jeeves states that he was a batman, but has offered up no further information on the subject.
Jeeves was first hired by his previous master to replace a valet who had been fired for stealing from him. The Former Master was later captured by Orcs, who had decided to hold him for ransom.
 


Jeeves mounted a one-man "Daring Rescue" to retrieve his Master. Disguising himself as an Orc, Jeeves infiltrated the Orc's Lair and set about turning the Orc's defenses against them. First, he freed a pair of captured Dire Wolves before goading them into attacking the Orcs. Then he isolated and slew an Orc Spellcaster, making the Undead he had raised go crazy. Using the last as a distraction, Jeeves attacked the now isolated Orc Leader, killing him before the rest of the Band were aware. Leaderless, scattered and (in most cases) dead, the Orcs were if little threat, and Jeeves was able to retrieve his grateful Master.
A couple of years after the incident, Jeeves' Master inherited a vast estate from one of his formidable Aunt's, so he moved to look after it. While he was fully capable of re-adapting to a larger Estate, Jeeves felt that he would be of more use in a smaller setting, so he took his leave amicably. Jeeves had originally intended to take an extended fishing holiday, but then he encountered The Party!
Jeves met the party at a rest stop in the early evening. Seeing the Advantage of safety in numbers, Jeeves offered to perform various chores around the camp overnight. The Party had been in the middle of a "discussion" about whose turn it was to do what, and so were more than happy to let Jeeves do this, though keeping a wary eye on the "stranger!" Jeeves was as good as his word, he cooked them a sumptuous meal out of trail rations, cleaned their spare clothing and gear, as well as various other small tasks that made things just that little bit easier and comfortable for them. The group offered to escort Jeeves to the town they were travelling to if he would keep on assisting them. This offer was later upgraded to an offer of Full Party-member Status when they realised he was also useful in fight. Despite this, Jeeves continues to act in the capacity of a Valet, or "Henchman" as they seem to like to refer to it, for the group as a whole.


Last edited by triedtherest; Jun 14th, 2021 at 07:40 AM.
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  #22  
Old Jun 13th, 2021, 03:13 PM
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Bumping up the thread. For those of you who are interested, thank you for the applications so far.
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  #23  
Old Jun 13th, 2021, 08:17 PM
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Hey Demandredd! My application's finished, any feedback is more than welcome!

I hope I am not too late for this! My application is mostly finished, I just need to complete the roleplaying sample (I have a rough outline but need to flesh it out). I will try and finish it tomorrow, but thought I'd go ahead and post what I have so far.

Application
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  • Name: Garret Greenbottle
  • Race: Lightfoot Halfling
  • Class: Paladin (Oath of the Ancients)
  • Background:
    • Personality Trait: The best way to get me to do something is to tell me I can't do it.
    • Personality Trait: I watch over my friends as if they were a litter of newborn pups.
    • Ideal: I am a free spirit— no one tells me what to do.
    • Bond: I protect those who cannot protect themselves.
    • Flaw: Beauty and art are for all to be enjoyed- I have to "liberate" it from those who would keep it to themselves.
    Criminal (burglar)
  • Alignment: CG

Description: Sporting bushy eyebrows, a thick, black beard of medium length, and deep creases running through his face, Garret looks far more rugged than many of the usually cheerful halflings. However, he shares his kind's sparkling eyes, which gaze out into the world seeking both wonder and excitement. Those who look beyond the first impression left by Garret's weary features will recognize a kind, yet sly smile. Garret's outfit is practical, favouring browns, greys and greens. When travelling, the halfling prefers a woolen vest to ward off the cold, grey or black pantaloons, and a dark green hooded cloak to obscure his features. Like most halflings, Garret goes barefoot, but usually wears leather wrappings around his wrists and hands.

Personality: Garret is a cheerful, optimistic sort, who tends to see the best in people. Despite his gentle nature, the halfling has a mischievous streak, and is not above pulling good-natured pranks on his friends. His playful nature has been tempered somewhat in recent years, no doubt due to his advancing age and the responsibilities to his family. Nonetheless, Garret remains impulsive, impatient, and is prone to go looking for excitement during extended periods of ennui. Of course, ever since Garret started a family, he finds there is little time for boredom. However, despite his flighty nature, Garret is loyal, protective of his friends and family, and feels a strong responsibility to protect the weak. He values the beauty of life, and has vowed to protect it.

Backstory: Garret was born fifty-three years ago in the small village Roselake, the youngest of three siblings. His mother tragically passed away when Garret was but two years old, but his father, Ander, cared for his three children as best he could. As it turned out, Ander was a hard-working individual who earned a modest living as a farmhand. The long hours required by his job unfortunately meant that Ander was often not around to care for his children, relying on their aunts and grandparents to raise the three brothers. These relatives spoiled the children, and as Garret grew up, his indulgent caretakers did little to prevent him from falling in with the wrong crowd. During his teenage years, Garret found himself part of a band of the village's ne'er do wells, more concerned with pursuing whatever fancy took them at the moment than working towards a future. Lounging about in the streets turned to petty theft, and petty theft soon led to burgling. Garret found he had a knack for his newfound vocation. When several of the village's more prominent individuals, who found themselves relieved of precious family heirlooms, began suspecting the young halfling, Garret decided it was time he skipped town to see what else the world had to offer.

Thus Garret travelled the land, sustaining himself by picking pockets and performing cat burglary. One day, however, deep in the woods, the halfling came across a temple dedicated to Titania, the Summer Queen. From the local people, he heard rumours that the priests who resided in the temple had become greedy, expecting ever more exorbitant sums for conducting their ceremonies. Resolving to teach the priests a lesson in humility, Garret came up with a plan. The priests were in possession of a holy symbol- a finely crafted amulet, shaped like a blue star, hanging from a silver necklace. No doubt, losing the amulet would make the priests reconsider their attitude towards the people they were supposed to shepherd. Garret deftly entered the temple without alerting the priests, and made his way to the altar when nobody was looking- or so he thought. As soon as his fingers touched the amulet, Garret heard child-like laughter behind him. When he turned around, the young halfling saw a gathering of fey creatures, applauding his tricksy ways and the clever manner in which he had evaded the priests. They were less than happy with the fact that Garret had tried to steal one of the Summer Queen's holy symbols, but recognized that he did so not out of greed or malice, but for the thrill of it, and to punish those who abused the people's faith in Titania for their own gain.

The faeries led Garret away, and for a full month, he spent time among them in the Feywild. There, Garret came to appreciate the beauty of life and nature, and learned to cherish kindness, cheerfulness and good-natured mischief. When he returned to his own world, the young halfling found himself changed- or perhaps, simply with a newfound respect for the values he had upheld all his life. He continued his larcenous ways, but now his tricks and schemes were aimed at bringing laughter and good cheer to the common folk, at the expense of the greedy, nasty lords who pretended to be their superiors. More than once, Garret was forced to protect the people with force of arms- but he never did so maliciously, his efforts aimed at inspiring good, honest folk, rather than at punishing the wicked. This he continued to do for a decade, until he finally found his way back to Roselake, the village where he was born. For a while, Garret was content to remain there, and even wed a childhood friend of his, Bree Leagallow. For a while, Garret considered retiring and turning to a more honest trade- but fate decided otherwise.

One night, a band of adventurers headed by the elven swordswoman Ilianya stumbled into Roselake. Seeing the elven woman was wounded, Garret and Bree were quick to take them in and tend to their wounds. The adventurers explained that they had recently crossed blades with a wide-spread organization of bandits, who operated in the lands surrounding Roselake. Sure enough, the thugs soon arrived in Roselake, and Garret was compelled to take up his whip and shield in defense of his hometown. The bandits were driven back, but Garret realized the bandits would not leave his village in peace. He joined Ilianya's band, and spent several years helping them break the organization's stranglehold on the surrounding lands. With peace restored, Garret bid Ilianya's adventurers a friendly farewell, and they parted ways.

That adventure was almost twenty years ago. Since then Garret lived his life in Roselake, raising his daughter Kithri and enjoying a peaceful life with his friends and family. Then, one night, Garret woke from his sleep one night in a cold sweat. When Bree asked him what was wrong, the halfling explained that, in his dreams, he had received a vision. The Summer Queen had warned him that his old friend, Ilianya, had gone missing in a remote village named Pendal's Helm. Worse, the area surrounding the village had been touched by a profound darkness, threatening the land and its people. Despite the passage of years, Garret remembered Ilianya fondly. She had seemed to him a force for good, an honest friend who had waged her life in the pursuit of a noble cause. Memories of camaraderie came flooding back, of a bond forged in the fires of battle and the warmth of taverns. Realizing his friends needed him, Garret quickly came to a decision. Saying goodbye to his family he donned his armour, took up his weapons, and rode out to the Dalelands, hoping he would not be too late...

 




 


 
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Last edited by DemonSlayer; Jun 14th, 2021 at 10:22 AM. Reason: finished application
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  #24  
Old Jun 14th, 2021, 05:59 AM
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OOCI'd like have my patron be Baba Yaga herself or her teeth, with your permission. Also, supposing this campaign continues on after her defeat, would I still have my spells and abilities as a Warlock, FYI I suggested her teeth because in the lore they argue a lot
Castien
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Name
Castien

Race
Tiefling (Hellfire Variant)

Class
Warlock (Hexblade)

Alignment
CG

Appearance
Front teeth from canine to canine are sharp fangs on both the upper and lower jaws. Dark blue hair in a neat crew-cut with a ponytail. Jet black eyes, thin eyebrows, and a thin mustache with 5 o'clock shadow. He wears a white 3-piece suit with gold trim and complete with a top hat, a gift from Ilianya. Among the tallest of Tieflings at 6'2; and kind of skinny at 210 lbs. Has a walking stick, but it's more for decoration than anything else. His skin is crimson red with patches of scales spread throughout. His horns sweep back and curl forwards and slightly away from each other.

Background
Urchin

Personality Trait 1
I've got sticky fingers and wandering eyes.

Personality Trait 2
I've skipped too many meals to make etiquette one of my strong points.

Ideal
I've come to believe that chaos and entropy are responsible for a lot of things. I deserve fame and fortune as much as any of those "nobles". Why shouldn't I be happy?

Bond
Since Ilianya looked after me for as long as I can remember, I don't think I will ever be able to pay her back, she taught me most everything I know.

Flaw
I've witnessed first-hand that there's enough to go around for everyone, I just help myself a little when no one will miss it

Personality:
A paragraph or so describing your character's personality
Castien is no stranger to hardship, or the tough decisions one will be faced with in such situations. But since meeting Ilianya, he's been making an effort to live up to the potential that she seems to see in him. He will not stand idly by while a child goes hungry, and will rob a bully if he thinks he can get away with it. He sees Ilianya as the older sister and sometimes even mother he never had.

Backstory: Castien has never met his birth parents, abandoned before he could a lasting memory of either of them. His earliest memories are a hazy morass of hard times, bad days, and hungry nights. That is until he met Ilianya, Castien still doesn't know why she took pity on a mere tiefling orphaned teen, or why she gave him the name (It was her brother's name, but he doesn't know that). But she did it all the same, and after realizing that she was merely being kind for the sake of it, he vowed to himself that he would lay down his life for hers.
"Metagaming?I was also thinking that he was either sold to Baba Yaga, or she stumbled upon him abandoned somewhere as a baby, and 'raised' him, but then altered his memories and sent him away. Where he'd eventually meet lianya

RP Sample

"Are you serious?!"
Castien asked bewildered, he held the immaculate garment up over his head to see it better in the light. He could hear Ilianya sigh as she repeated herself for the umpteenth time; yes, this was his own personal set of clothes to keep. He had to bite back his tongue's urge to question what the catch was, he had seen the hurt looks she tried to hide whenever he was suspicious of her. After getting to know her over the course of a few month and several meals, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was the real deal, a hero, and one Castien was proud to know. He held the clothes to his chest and inhaled the non-existent scent, the scent of clean. He'd learned to appreciate it when things around him didn't stink of garbage and rot, and now he OWNED such a thing, he could feel his eyes well up with tears and fought valiantly to hold back the flood. But the next thing he knew, he was in the shade and something was compressing his head a little.
"No suit is complete without a hat."
Realizing no one could see his face now that she had put the hat on his head, he began to cry softly.
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Last edited by L0stTh0ught; Jun 30th, 2021 at 07:41 PM.
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  #25  
Old Jun 14th, 2021, 07:41 AM
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My application for Reginald Jeeves is complete.
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  #26  
Old Jun 15th, 2021, 04:51 PM
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Jehsula Elynore
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Name: Jehsula Elynore
Race: Half-Elf
Class: Druid - Circle of Wildfire
Alignment: CG

Background: Outlander
Personality Traits: I have a lesson for every situation, drawn from observing nature.
I’m driven by a wanderlust that led me away from home.
Bond: Change. Life is like the seasons, in constant change, and we must change with it. (Chaotic)
Ideal: I am the last of my tribe, and it is up to me to ensure their names enter legend.
Flaw: There’s no room for caution in a life lived to the fullest.

Description: Jehsula is a young woman with tan skin, long raven-black hair, and twinkling, dark brown eyes. She has a tall, slender figure with broad shoulders and narrow hips. She inherited her looks from her elven mother, but they are softened somewhat by her human blood which she inherited from her father. She wears her hair loose and it often falls into her face briefly obscuring her mournful eyes. Although she is amiable to all she meets, the smile does not completely reach her eyes as if she’s known sadness unimaginable.

She wears the brightly painted leathers of her tribe which are loose fitting and don’t completely cover her body. Her skin is always warm to the touch no matter how cool the elements around her are.

Personality: Like a stereotypical half-elf, Jehsula has two competing halves that are in constant battle like two wolves vying to be fed more than the other. Her elven side inherited from her mother causes her to frequently become the caretaker of her group, making sure people are looked after and safe. Those she considers friends get the full brunt of this as she slips into an older sister persona towards them and goes out of her way to make sure they are safe. But this unwavering devotion does not come easily. It takes her a good while to fully warm up to others. It also doesn’t help that she prefers the solitude not found in the hustle and bustle of cities. She is more at home in natural places such as mountains and forests.

Her father’s human side comes out in other ways. She is strong willed and has his free spirit. Some people even go as far to call her reckless and impulsive; totally at odds with her introspective moments. But she is kind-hearted and no better listener is found. She contains boundless amounts of empathy and strives to develop rich connections with others.

Backstory:
 


Roleplay Sample:
 


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  #27  
Old Jun 16th, 2021, 10:33 AM
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Just a gentle reminder for those who might have missed it, prospective PC's should consider their links to the NPC detailed in the OP in terms of connections and backstory.
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  #28  
Old Jun 16th, 2021, 08:29 PM
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Solana Ni'Tessarhine
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Name: Solana Ni'Tessarhine

Race: Half-elf

Class: Bard 3 (College of Whispers) / Fighter 2

Alignment: CG
Personality Traits: (1) I can stare down a Hellhound without Flinching. (2) I am always calm, no matter the situation. I rarely raise my voice, and never let my emotions control me.

Bond: I will fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.

Ideal: I don't take a job that crosses someone else in the trade.

Flaw: If there's a plan, I'll forget it. If I don't forget it, I'll ignore it.
Description: Solana is a five foot, nine inch tall young woman of human and elven mixed lineage. She has strawberry blonde hair that she wears down and brushed out. She's adorned with studded leather armor, a rapier and a dagger, along with a longbow and quiver beside a light pack and bedroll when adventuring. One would think her a light fighter were it not for the Lute and lyre cases strapped beside her pack as well.

Personality: Solana is out to set things right, earn some coin, and have a good time doing it. After a raucous evening causing a ruckus, she'll often reply to those who frown on her behavior with a chuckle and the remark, Please, nobody died. Despite her other common reply of, What's the good in that?, she sticks up for underdogs and the downtrodden. She's quick with a song or tune to fit the occasion, even if the occasion doesn't warrant one. Most thinks she's fun to have around and there's never a dull moment if she's in your company.

Backstory: Solana grew up in Shadowdale, her half-elven parents both working a business that did laundry and other services for the city guard. Though she was taught the elven tongue growing up, she's no idea of what elven subrace might be more prevalent in her bloodline. And since her parents don't seem to care either, being city folk, she never has.
Her younger days were spent with her mother, frequenting city guard friendly taverns singing and playing stringed instruments to small crowds, occasionally entertaining the guards in their halls. For a while, she seemed to be leaning towards such a life, staying in and around the City earning coin and reputation. But then, her close connections to the City Guard showed her a different side of the city. She used her new and growing connections as a Bard to pick up on the seedier element of the City and began working as a Bounty Hunter. She always tracked down her quarry, and led them into a trap where the Guard was waiting, or brought them into her confidence and informed the Guard of where she was meeting them so the 'wanted' would know she was the one who turned them in.
She thought this would be her life, rarely getting into a fight or scuffle, and earning coin and reputation as a Bounty Hunter and Bard.
Then she met Ilianya. She felt a kinship with the swordswoman's love of things elven, and when together they only spoke in elven. Though she didn't know what she was missing, not having been around the company of elves, she grew to call Ilianya a friend. She momentarily put aside her Bard life to pick up some training with her connections at the City Guard and has become quite deadly with her Rapier, but even more deadly with her bow. The latter is probably because she prefers to engage foes from a distance, and even her studied and learned Arcane spells she's picked up lean towards that style.
Realizing that Ilianya's talk of returning to elven lands as of late probably means she will soon, Solana has been ever present by her side on adventures since she hopes that day doesn't come. She'll miss her friend, though she'll respect her decision.
Now... all those thoughts are set aside. Her friend is in danger and must be found and freed.

 
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Last edited by Drachenspirit; Jun 18th, 2021 at 11:01 AM.
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  #29  
Old Jun 17th, 2021, 12:49 PM
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Withdrawn. Good luck everyone.
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Posting status: Vacation for 2 weeks, posting likely slowed

Last edited by Noquarter19; Jul 11th, 2021 at 02:58 AM.
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  #30  
Old Jun 18th, 2021, 12:48 AM
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Application
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Name: Sister Wren
Race: Human (Variant)
Class: Monk (Kensei)
Background: Acolyte
Alignment: Neutral
  • Personality Trait: I am always calm, no matter what the situation. I never raise my voice or let my emotions control me.
  • Bond: I protect those who cannot protect themselves.
  • Ideal: Might. In life as in war, the stronger force wins.
  • Flaw: My piety sometimes leads me to blindly trust those that profess faith in my god.
Description: Sister Wren might appear generally unremarkable at first glance. Her red hair might set her apart to some degree, but even that appeared a drab sort of carrot-y color next to Ilianya's brilliant locks. The rest of her is... normal. Not too tall or too short or too broad or too thin. She dresses plainly as well, with drab colors and simple cloth. The bronze brooch bearing the flaming sword of Tempus is one of her few adornments. Just below the surface, however, the illusion begins to crack. The farmer's callouses of her youth have long since been replaced by those of a swordswoman. The way she carries herself, they way she walks and stands, they all reveal the warrior simmering away under the quiet exterior. But it is her eyes that reveal the deepest truths. Cold, green eyes that have seen death and come to terms with it.

Personality: Sister Wren cultivates a studious serenity about her. This quiet calm leads some into believing her passive or peace-loving, although they would be quite mistaken. However, she does not project tranquility out of a desire to mislead or deceive anyone. Instead, it is a tool to her. By pushing aside what she sees as the petty grievances and frivolities of life, she is free to focus on what matters most to her. Conflict. She is at her most animated and alive in battle, eager to test herself against powerful foes, and slightly deflated when the fight is over. Despite the glory she seeks in the sword, she never turns it against the weak or defenseless, not because of any great altruism, but because they are not worth of her blade. Instead she seeks to defend them, placing herself in the way of threats in order to find a challenge that will make her heart beat fast.

Backstory: Wren Fairfield was just a slip of a girl when war came to her village. Theirs was a tiny farming community, of little note and even less strategic import. They paid their taxes, but barely even knew the name of the kingdom they were supposed to be a part of. But none of that mattered when they found themselves between two large armies, primed for battle.

Wren bore firsthand witness to the destruction that followed. Their farms were raided for supplies first by one force, then the other. The villagers didn't even know which army was supposedly 'theirs', and the soldiers that pillaged them all seemed the same. On the morning of the battle itself, everything hung silent with the calm before the storm. Then everything Wren had ever known was swept aside by a sea of warriors, trampled underfoot and utterly destroyed.

In the bloody aftermath, Wren learned the truth of it all, or at least... some version of it. She didn't know how the battle had ended. She didn't know which side had 'won'. Walking the blood soaked lands that had once been her home, there were only bodies and death. The corpses left behind were coated in mud and gore, all allegiances and colors washed away by the grim realities of war. In the face of such unparalleled devastation, what mattered anything else? There was only the battle. To live or die by the sword, and to make your mark upon the world by doing so.

Nothing remained of the village where Wren had been raised. Perhaps the inhabitants would trickle back in the days that followed, picking up the pieces of their shattered lives. But not the girl. She understood the futility of such a life now. Why scrabble in the dirt only to have it taken away at the tip of a sword? No longer was that to be her lot in life. She pulled some forgotten soldier's weapon from the trampled earth and anointed herself with spilled blood, dedicating herself to Tempus. In the face of war's inevitability, she would take up the mantle of destruction herself. No banner, no nation. Only battle.

For some time now, the Sister of Battle has walked the highways and byways of the realms. There is always someone or something in need of a woman who knows the way of the blade. Most recently, she has been traveling with a small group of adventurers. Among them, the swordswoman, Ilianya. Wren and the elf maid formed a deadly pair, cutting swaths through their opponents. A glorious union in battle, but once their swords were sheathed, they found themselves at philosophical loggerheads. Ilianya had mastered the blade as a means to an end, to avenge her family. With that need sated, she had lost her way and dreamt of home. But Wren understood that the blade as an end unto itself. Even if her feet carried her back to that tiny farming village, it would never be home. War might come back that way, as it had once before... but why stand in one place and wait for battle to come to you? Far better to seek out conflict, and in doing so, take control of your own destiny.
RP Sample"Sister..."

Sister Wren was more or less oblivious to being called, and continued her observation of the vine wrapped around the tree in front of her. "This is really quite fascinating. The tree and the creeper, locked in a duel to the death. The struggle for life itself, moving at glacial slowness from our point of view, but no less vicious because of it. It really is quite beautiful." She beckoned vaguely over one shoulder. "Ilianya, you're an elf. What kind of plants are these?"

"Wren!" The sharpness of the cry finally pulled her attention away from the battle before her to the one about to begin behind her. Her companions were in a stand-off of their own, with a number of rather scruffy-looking men. "These gentlemen are trying to rob us."

"Oh." Sister Wren blinked slightly, and gave the men a second look. Her companions had been hired to drive off some bandits and it seemed that their targets had appeared... but the highwaymen were a rather less impressive sight than might have been hoped for. They definitely put the 'desparate' in 'desparados'. It was hard to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "Them? Really? Even this one?" Wren singled out one of the younger men. He was trying to keep his sword trained on her as she slid towards him on the balls of her feet. The bandit and his friends looked a little nonplussed at her reaction, probably expecting something more akin to fear or defiance, not... boredom? As such, her young counterpart was utterly unprepared for the robed woman to glide up next to him and take his wrist in her hand, long fingers wrapping around it. "No, this won't do at all! You have to keep your wrist loose unless you want it to snap like a twig the first time you parry." She shook his arm gentle to get some of the stiffness out of his grip. "Honestly! Who taught you to hold a sword, anyways?" She had already turned away and started back to her friends, missing the sidelong glance the bandit shot to one of the other men. The second man, the bandit chief, if the size of his mustache was any indication, had slowly been turning red during Wren's whole demonstration, but he went absolutely purple at this last comment.

"Get them!"

The combat that ensued was brief and predictably dissatisfying. Wren found herself only given the battle (if you could call it such) the barest sliver of her attention, knocking aside a sword or two here and there but leaving most of the actual fighting to her companions... until backup arrived. The man who came up from the hill behind the other bandits wasn't any better dressed or equipped than his companions. Nor, Wren suspected, did he have any more training in the proper use of a sword, given that he was carrying a heavy hammer in two meaty paws. What he did have was a head and a half over any other bandit on the field, arms the size of small tree trunks and very probably more than a small amount of ogre blood flowing through his veins. He was large, immensely strong and intensely ugly. He was perfect. The Sister of Battle, a quiet smile on her face, stepped fully into his path, her sword held loosely in her hands. "Oh yes, you'll do nicely!"

Last edited by hafrogman; Jun 28th, 2021 at 09:16 PM.
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