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  #16  
Old Nov 6th, 2020, 09:07 AM
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shakes out her twisted arm and posts interest
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  #17  
Old Nov 6th, 2020, 01:50 PM
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Are Tortles by any chance allowed I have an idea for a Tortle Druid?
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  #18  
Old Nov 6th, 2020, 01:54 PM
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No Tortles, sorry.
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Recruiting for: Baldur’s Gate: Descent to Avernus
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  #19  
Old Nov 6th, 2020, 02:11 PM
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Tortles; is that like a turtle with a tortilla shell?
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  #20  
Old Nov 6th, 2020, 05:52 PM
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I really shouldn't but I love forgotten realms and I love the locale of Baldur's Gate...No promises but I would very much like to get a character drawn up.
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  #21  
Old Nov 6th, 2020, 06:03 PM
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Looks intriguing, thought I would throw in a character concept for consideration. I'll add a character pic later.

Name: Dhan’Te Dlusker
Age: 18
Race: Human (variant)
Class: Bard (College of Swords)
background: Noble
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Personality: Witty, charming, but doesn’t know when or even how to stop himself. Fortunately his lightning quick verbal barbs are only exceeded in sharpness by the dancing tip of his dueling sword. Dhan’Te has never met an enemy he didn’t like at least a little nor a friend he couldn’t see needing a bit of constructive criticism. He comes off seeming to treat everything like a game, and while he does like to play his games this is merely a mask he chooses to hide behind. He is in fact desperate to find his niche and to make something of himself.
Appearance: Dhan’Te is nothing if not handsome with wavy brown hair and bright green eyes that sparkle with barely concealed mirth while his smile never quite departs being a self-satisfied smirk. It is just something he has come to take for granted. He dresses simply but one only needs to look closely to see that while the design may be simple, the quality is anything but.
Backstory: Born into the discredited Dlusker family of Baldur’s Gate, Dhan’Te is nothing if not inconsistent. Charged, as all Dlusker offspring of this generation have been, to bring back the honor of the family name he has tried his hand at scholarly pursuits, the arts, the path of the sword, the occasional bit of larceny and even dabbled here and there at magic. But while he absorbed what he wished from each pursuit none caught at his heart. He has become something of an embarrassment to a family that cannot afford any further embarrassment. They are very close to making him join the guard or enter service to a temple, and Dhan’Te knows it. It is for this reason that while he may seem to be drowning his sorrows in games of chance, loose women and the occasional brawl he is actually searching desperately for some better alternatives.
RP Sample:
With as neutral a face as he could muster Dhan’Te examined his cards. It wasn’t looking too good, but there was still a chance he could pull off a bluff – and he hated to concede; especially to Jewel. It wasn’t because of her gender or her profession, Dhan’Te had great respect for both, but rather because she would never let him live it down. It was just her nature. Though there was a good chance she was cheating which might mean she would be only too glad to call his bluff, but then she would likely assume he was cheating too which sort of evened the odds. Oh, what the heck. It was for the unpredictability of such games that he chose to play against a known swindler like Jewel – well, that and for the pleasure of her company.
“You look far too smug, my dear, and I find myself quite determined to wipe that smirk from your otherwise perfect features.”
Jewel pretended to self-consciously cover her smile with her well-manicured hand, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her true feelings.
“If you too younglings are done flirting, I’d like to play through!”
Dhan’Te glanced over at Terk. The half-orc was only half serious but he did seem eager to play. Since he wasn’t into complex strategy that meant he thought he had something, but he was also easily intimidated by a show of confidence so it didn’t really alter his plan.
“My apologies, Terk, I merely wished to express my reasoning before seeing Jewel’s bet, and raising her two gold.”
It was an extravagant bet, seeing as how they had been playing for mere coppers, and it had the anticipated effect on Terk.
“Too rich for this half-blood. I pray you have something to take this noble upstart down a notch!”
”Why, Terk, do you not recognize desperation when you see it? Clearly he bluffs, and I will do my utmost to prove it. But I am afraid I find my funds insufficient to the task. Good and noble sir, might I persuade you to consider services in kind?”
Raising an eyebrow, Dhan’Te paused as if considering the offer. He gave her a quick once-over which brought a blush even to her jaded cheeks.
”My darling, Jewel, for the pleasure of your company I would risk far greater than the paltry sum of two gold.”
Smiling, Jewel laid out her hand and with a sigh Dhan’Te conceded that he would not be enjoying Jewel’s favors this night despite having lost far more than the traditional fee.

Last edited by Ghrimm; Nov 6th, 2020 at 06:04 PM.
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  #22  
Old Nov 6th, 2020, 06:32 PM
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Lady Knight:
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Name: Andria Linnox
Age: 22 years old
Race: Human (Variant)
Class: Paladin
Alignment: Lawful Good
Background: Folk Hero
Personality trait:
-Thinking is for other people. I prefer action
-I’m confident in my own abilities and do what I can to instill confidence in others... in my own way.
Ideal:
-Destiny. Nothing and no one can steer me away from my higher calling. (Any)
Bond:
- I protect those who cannot protect themselves.
Flaw:
-I’m convinced of the significance of my destiny, and blind to my shortcomings and the risk of failure.

Personality: Andria is stubborn and confident, she never backs down from a fight that she thinks she is destined for... which is every fight that comes her way. She has been told by more than one person in her life (Two people) that she is destined for greatness and that she will one day save the world from terrible evil. She isn't very good with a blade but she was taught by a wandering Knight during her apprenticeship to him, in her mind, she is far better than most think, they just haven't seen her in a moment of true need. Some might call her deluded but if she is destined for greatness, then she must be pretty amazing at... well... everything, right? She doesn't like to think much, preferring action first but she does protect those that cannot protect themselves.... and she has her gifts... that's pretty important if you're destined for greatness, right?

Appearance: Andria isn't a very imposing figure, standing just on the tall side of five and half feet tall and her figure is athletic and suited to the suit of chainmail she wears, after she had it refitted from it's previous owner. She wears her mid-length, blonde hair up in a tight bun to keep it out of her face. Her green eyes always seem to face forward and a little upwards, always focused on her Destiny. She wears a thick green undershirt that blends well with her ankle-length cloak of the same color. She takes great care to shine her chainmail and extra bits of armor meticulously, She has to look her best if the common people are to know her as a hero at first glance. She keeps her longsword and shield polished and in good condition so that when and where evil rears it's ugly head, she is ready and looking gallant!

Backstory: Andria was born on a farm near Daggerford, where she would have lived a simple life if her mother had still lived. Andria's mother was lost to a wheezing disease during the young daughter's tenth winter. With no way to raise his daughter and take care of the farm which took rigorous and near constant care to make any kind of living, Bertol considered himself blessed when he became host to a wandering knight by the name of Sir Reginald the Brave. At dinner, it was all laid out, Sir Reginald would take over care of Bertol's daughter as a favor in exchange for a place to sleep for the night and food to eat.

The next day, as Andria packed what few possessions she had, her father explained that Sir Reginald's arrival was meant to be and that with the wandering knight, Andria would start her path to her true Destiny, not one of being a dirt farmer but that of a Knight and Brave hero someday! Sheltered and seeking an answer to why her father would be sending her away, she clung to this ideal and her attitude became geared toward this 'Destiny'. She hugged her father and waved as she left home with the glimmer of Destiny in her eyes and that glimmer never dimmed even if she wasn't quite cut out to be exactly what the Knight needed in a squire.

She spent much time as Sir Reginald's squire and learned much about him such as the fact that the Knight had a son named Regheir in the distant village of Kheldrivver, fighting a war against trolls and how he missed his son greatly and eventually, when she was a little older, he taught her how to fight with a sword in order to be his sparring partner. Andria was near her second decade when she discovered her gift, shortly after committing to the same deity as Sir Reginald (Torm), she prayed and was given the 'Sight' as she calls it. She was able to avoid the danger that swiftly surrounded Sir Reginald and guided a group of villagers away from the fighting but to her dismay, she returned to find that her master had been dealt a mortal wound and while the enemy had left the battlefield, he wasn't going to live much longer. In the haze of a swift close to Sir Reginald's life, he pushed the hilt of his sword into Andria's hands and told her that she mustn't give up despite this terrible defeat but thrive onward because she had a great Destiny to one defeat a great and terrible foe. He accidentally called Andria by his son's name but she wasn't about to correct the last words of a dying man and add insult to his last moments.

From that day, Andria took to Knighthood, considering her Master's last words as a good enough knighting ceremony and thus traveled Faerun, much like Sir Reginald did, righting wrongs and fighting beasts, however successful she was but often finding herself lacking in true need to defeat such foes and letting lesser heroes have the glory. After all, defeating a group of bandits surely wasn't truly her Destiny, how could it? She came to be in Baldur's Gate when the influx of refugees came flooding in and from them, she learned of their plight, immediately seeing that her Destiny was nigh and that she would go to Elturel or wherever and seek out this great and terrible foe she had been waiting for.

RP Sample: On her way up the Coast Way, the lady knight strutted in all her glory, her armor shining in the sun, her one hand upon the sheathed longsword at her hip and the other upon her hip heroically. She had been minding her own business... The business of Destiny when just over the next hill she heard the 'Thwip' of a crossbow being fired and the shout of people in trouble! Her armor rattled and jingled as she broke into a run, pulling the shield from her back and securing it upon her left arm. As she crested the hill, she paused for a moment to assess the situation and to draw her shining blade so that she could cut a picturesque pose with the sun flashing off her blade of true justice, her dark green cape flowing out behind in a wind that was suddenly there.
"DO NOT FEAR, PEASANTS! LADY LINNOX SHALL COME TO YOUR AID!" she shouted as she charged down the hill, her blade raised over her head, and into the fray of several bandits preying upon the decent commoners that travelled the Coast Way. She hit the nearest bandit with her shield and pushed him back then turned an incoming blade of another bandit to stick fast into the side of the commoner's wagon. She struck out with the hilt of her sword heroically, just as her Master had taught her, in way of a quick counterattack ...but she missed and she got a kick to the chest in return for her efforts which shoved her back against the wagon.

"Take that, Blackguard!" she shouted as she parried with her shield, she couldn't give up just now, even if the sun was in her eyes, fowling her swing or if her cape kept wrapping about her ankles and causing her to misstep. Destiny awaited, likely just over the next hill. Just then, a pair rode hard into the fray, leaping from their horses and Andria, seeing that they had the bandits well in hand, took her time and played a game of cat and mouse with her opponent before he caught an arrow from one of the newcomers. She couldn't waste her strength on mere bandits.

As the dust cleared, she sheathed her blade and slung her shield over her shoulder as she walked up to the two strangers that had rode in with congratulations, "Very good, You may call this a victory by your hand, These bandits thought themselves more than a match for us, I'm sure but we showed them, Didn't we?!" she breathed in deeply, trying to catch her breath then nodded to the female who rolled her eyes at Andria who smiled confidently. These inexperienced heroes would tell tales of their great victory at the tavern tonight and all thanks to Lady Linnox who fought them off so valiantly but she wouldn't claim any credit since she was humble and modest. It was kind to let the lesser heroes have their moments.
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Last edited by Arthilian01; Nov 15th, 2020 at 01:36 PM.
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  #23  
Old Nov 6th, 2020, 11:26 PM
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Character Name: Almira "Raven" Lyonschild
Age: 24
Race: Half Elf
Class: Cleric of Kelemvor
Alignment: LN
Background: Acolyte

Personality: Raven is somewhat withdrawn from the world of the living. Every living thing will die eventually, even the gods themselves can die. She works to uphold the laws and to ensure that all undead are destroyed. As a cleric of Kelemvor her highest purpose is the destruction of undead and the comforting of the living as they pass into a natural death. She can and will socialize with other people if necessary, but has little experience with the task which often makes her seem a bit creepy.

Ideal: The ancient traditions of worship must be preserved and upheld.
Bond: Everything I do is for the common people.
Flaw: I judge others harshly, and myself even more severely.

Appearance:Dark black hair with searing blue eyes and pale skin. She wears dark gray colored vestments of Kelemvor when about her regular duties. The sigil of the lord of death emblazoned on the front and back. Her armor is blackened with soot and ash which not only, keeps it from rusting, but also makes her look like a dark specter of death. Her shield is emblazoned with the symbol of Kelemvor and her morningstar has a deep mahogany grip and blackened metal as well. When close to her she would smell of myrrh and pine, both of which would be imbued into her garments and armor from years of church services.

Backstory”Sir, you’d best come quickly there’s a girl in here” The militiaman called to the seargeant. The Seargeant walks over and says, ”You mean alive?”

”Yes sir she’s alive, lookin a bit on the thin side, but she’s alive.” The militiaman responded and the Sargeant went in to see the girl. The young girl looks back up at the man and says, ”Mother and father are dead now. Brother and sister too. Whole town’s dead now.” Her voice is calm far too calm.



Raven was orphaned by a plague in her village. It was a plague that took every living soul except her and killed them all. She was left to wander the town among the dead bodies and decaying corpses until a different militia found her. The members of that militia found her to be inordinately calm and accepting of her situation. Some people felt she was unnatural and wanted to burn her with the corpses, but the Kelemvor clerics, who had been dispatched to ensure the bodies stayed dead and the plague was gone, took her in instead.

Since that time she has been a member of the church. People in the town often call her “Raven” as she is much like the bird that sees people at the end of their lives. The dark bird who will ensure that a corpse never rises from its grave again.


RP Sample:
She sighed and realized she was tired mentally and physically. She'd nearly died and the night was just beginning. The first skeletons were dead at least but more were coming soon. She said a quick prayer and held up her holy symbol. "Lord of the Dead I beseech your aid. Please heal my wounds so I may continue to perform your will."

The attackers that came next were not only, skeletons but also, orcs and a dark cloaked Orc necromancer. It didn't matter though all that changed was what spells she would use to dispatch them. The chill touch of death came to her hands and she waded into battle with a cry, "Even the dead can die!"

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  #24  
Old Nov 7th, 2020, 06:18 AM
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Creed Bluenose
One day I'll yell out over the top of this city, from it's highest peak, and it'll yell back. It will.

Age: 23
Race/Class: Human I'm sorta malleable right now on his class, but fighter is the easiest.Fighter
Background: Baldur's Gate Folk Hero
Alignment: Chaotic Good

Personality: Your loud friend who thinks highly of himself, and you too.

Creed is hungry and selfish, though pleasant to be around. It's clear in the way he acts that if he desires for something, then he acts on it. And if someone else does? He's all in to jump in those muddy waters too. This is mostly caused by his being an adrenaline junkie that can always be persuaded towards thrill. For himself, a friend, or nothing.

Which has net him a hand in plenty of trouble. And while the man is not driven by greed or pride like many of the petty thugs he could be confused with, he is a known scoundrel. He laughs at the ill luck of those he doesn't like, but desires the best for nearly everyone else. Nearly, as he has a grudge against the upper class, built upon by those around him all his life.

Appearance: He is tall and brutish, with thick brunette hair that hides itself behind an old cloth headband. Creed's facial hair grows quick and there is never a time he doesn't look a bit rugged.

A very emotive person, the man has a strong body for a loud voice. He wears dock clothes, his working attire that became his normal, as many Gate-folk. Creed works for a living as evident by his body. Cut, calloused, though surprisingly nimble. The man wears work scars like any does, though mixed in the imperfections are stab marks and cuts in his clothes that belie a less than straight-laced lifestyle. Sometimes he wears his climbing gear, made for ship work but used for more.

Backstory: Bluenose is a gutter rat from the dockside of Baldur's Gate. A young scamp, he worked his way through a couple orphanages in town, but was forced to leave after getting too old. Too many kids, too many mouths to feed for someone to stay there at working age. But he still knew plenty of people about the Gate from those years.

Creed knew his birth parents as well. So, the scamp used a bit of guilt to get his blood to offer him a job on the docks.

The boy grew to a young man over the side of ships, shucking off crustaceans, putting in repairs as an apprentice shipwright later on. This is where his affable nature grew to it's bloom tended by the salty mariners of the docks. He became more understanding about the wider world hearing the tales of far-off places. Grew more willful having to contest himself with the hard-headed men of the docks. Arguing, freezing with them on long night shifts, having to knock a tooth out. And, he grew to know death and it's natural tide as Umberlee cursed one ship after another to a watery grave. He's sat beside many drinking off their mate's passing, fallen in with rioters, nodded along to a plan of vengeance...

But, Creed wakes up in the morning, rises to the heights of his docks and looks to the sun as it rises every day. It looks out over everything and as those sunny rays meet his face, there is not a day he doesn't grin. Creed is hopeful and knows he is always going somewhere. He breathes in the salty wind and bellows out a loud roar more often than not. A glimmer of life amongst his people. He knows the chain each wears, dragging them down. His are there too, but won't be forever.

The man is a thrill-seeker, keen to leave on voyages or travel to distant towns for something or another. He worked as an armed guard before, had a license for it, but papers get revoked when you start taking to a jail cell a bit too often for less than guild duties. All throughout, the man has worked his way into the hearts of those he has helped. Though his record isn't clean nowadays, Creed Bluenose has many who would call him friend, hoping he succeeds where others can't.

RP SampleFour years ago you would say I was a gutter rat...
Once and always, Bluenose...


Creed cried out with a whoop of satisfaction. His breath was hot on the cold air, the call exuberant and sharp. It echoed against the stone walls around him and encouraged him to let out another bellow. Both were lost amongst the fog in the air. The scamp flicked his brush, spattering paint along the clean walls of the shrine as he jumped off his barrel.

Nearby another youth leveled her gaze at the boy. A bead of sweat drew itself upon her forehead as her gaze flicked back to the end of the alleyway.

"Oh hush up Bluenose. Don't want the robes, or forbid — a fist — walking 'round the corner and findin' us." She drew her hand up the nearby wall, pulling along a trail of paint. Another line in a wide mural depicting the sea goddess Umberlee in less than flattering form. Underneath, tentacles dragged down at humble-looking sailors, drawing them to dark blue depths.

He only grinned. "Oh you know they're all down for the Breaking on the docks. Not one is milling inn'a shrine to the hag today. Ice breaks and not-a-one isn't crying more havoc than a dockside gull. Haha!"

Across from him Tera simply grumbled, making a couple more strokes, but he knew she smiling away where he couldn't see. Creed knew she was frustrated. That was the only reason he was here and not sleeping through his studies or trying to cross a roof, maybe pissing off a street blight off their tipple.

"Ay! You two!" A shout drew from the front of the shrine. A torch drew away the fog as Tera tipped off of her barrel. Paint splattered over the two of them as the bucket went flying and she crashed into the dark blue alleyway.

"Run! Run!" Creed yelled, running over and scooping Tera off her backside as she looked, stunned at the unfinished graffiti. She bounced up and down over his shoulder, the two dripping with paint. "Is that a fist back there? Don't they know they can't outrun me. All'at armor weighs much more than—"

Her hands drew around his big mouth, shutting Bluenose up as he ran.

Last edited by Maskain; Nov 10th, 2020 at 09:27 AM.
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  #25  
Old Nov 7th, 2020, 09:29 AM
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Silva, the Amnesiac
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Name: Real name unknown

Age: 39

Race: Protector Aasimar

Class: Divine Soul Sorc

Alignment: CG

Personality: Silva is a quiet, introspective, individual. Pensive most often than not. When in the company of others she is kind and soft-spoken. And her warm demeanor tends to draw people to her. Almost as if there is a comforting aura about her that others want to bask in. Silva isn't sure if this is her true personality. Or if this is a by-product of her amnesia. Of the vulnerability of not knowing who you are, and the fear of turning out to be some kind of a monster. As a result she is very considerate of others. Children are especially drawn to her. For one because of the mystery surrounding her. But also because of how she is around them and the way she treats them as legitimate little persons with a mind and character of their own.

Appearance: Silva's 5'8'' frame is willowy and long-limbed. Her fair skin contrasted by jet-black hair. Her chiseled features softened by plump, red lips and sorrowful eyes the color of translucent honey. She dresses simply. Well worn leather britches and loose shirts and tunics. She mostly keeps her hair in a thick, side braid. Except for those rare occasions when she likes to let it loose to catch the playful breeze.

Backstory: A titleless book with blank pages. That's what Silva is. Her real name, much like everything about her is locked away in the prison of her amnesiac mind. The replacement name owing it's origin to a silver pendant in the shape of a hand that adorns Silva's neck at all times. An item most treasured by the thirty-nine year old. Along with a large, snow-white feather that is too big and entirely too resplendent to have come from any known bird. As well as a handful of peculiarly shaped coins not in circulation anywhere in Baldur's gate.

These, Silva's treasures, each hold the key to unlock the prison of her memories. Who she is? Where she comes from? How did she end up in Baldur's gate?

Her memories begin from not but a half year ago when she woke up in the shrine of the Watchful Shield. Apparently the clerics there had been taking care of her sleeping form for at least three months. Never knowing what had caused her slumber. Or how to wake her up. Apparently she had been severely injured when the city watch had brought her into the shrine, but she had never regained consciousness once her wounds had been fully healed. And so for months the clerics had provided her sleeping body with sustenance through magic and taken care to keep her muscles and joints mobile and healthy.

Her memory loss was as much of a mystery to the clerics as the original condition she'd been brought in and her long slumber.

RP Sample: "Who's that?" A small girl, cuddled adorably between Silva's crossed legs and playing idly with her silver hand pendant, asked curiously.

"I don't know." Silva answered distractedly, continuing to sketch the portrait of a female. Her countenance betraying deep affection. And the tips of angel wings above her shoulders, an unambiguous clue as to her origin.

"But you're drawing her. How can you not know?!" The little girl insisted, leaning to get a better view of the sketch.

Arguing with a child's logic was nearly impossible. Silva stared at the portrait. The kid was right. One drew portraits after a model or out of memory. And she wasn't using any models at the moment. And didn't remember seeing a woman with this face since after she'd woken up with the clerics of the Watchful Shield. So it stood to reason she was drawing this image from memory. But what memory Silva didn't know. All she knew was that looking at this woman, this angel, brought on a warm feeling of affection within her. It brought her comfort.

"See, you're smiling. You must know her." The little girl insisted.

"I..." Silva wavered. "I don't remember." She finished after clearing her throat.

The child's face fell. Her mom had warned her not to mention Silva's past. Because she might be saddened that she didn't remember it.

"I'm sorry, Silva." Her whiny voice was barely a whisper.

Silva blinked away the fog of her ever forgotten past and looked down at the child in her lap.

"Hey now! No need for any of that." She smiled warmly, pinching the girl's cheek to get rid of the watery pout that had formed on her plump, little face. "Want me to draw one of you?" She asked, turning a new page on her sketch pad.

"Yay!" The sad tears from seconds ago turned into sparkling crystals with the girl's joyful and exuberant response.
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Last edited by ihinka; Nov 12th, 2020 at 03:44 PM.
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  #26  
Old Nov 7th, 2020, 10:11 AM
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Name: Orla Folkor
Age: 152
Race: Gnome
Class: Rogue
Alignment: Neutral

 


 


 


 
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Last edited by PurplePen; Nov 20th, 2020 at 06:25 PM. Reason: Added image
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  #27  
Old Nov 8th, 2020, 07:25 AM
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Blackbird singing in the dead of night... Take these broken wings and learn to fly

Name: [Sound of fist striking wooden post]. Will respond to "Fist" or, if necessary, "Woody," but attempts to just call him "Little Bird" will likely result in violence. Only one man is allowed to call him that, and that man is dead.

Age: 20

Race: Kenku

Class: Monk (Long Death)

Alignment: CN

Personality: In a world gone mad, when one cannot speak their own thoughts, it is best to say as little as possible, and for "Fist," that goes double. Orphaned at an early age after roving bandits slew his family and put his home to the torch, Fist "speaks" only when necessary. But silence does not equal inaction, and if pushed, Fist will show how and why he earned his namesake. Years of training with the dojo-master who took him in on that fateful night have made Fist's body a veritable living weapon, and though he is fascinated by death in general, behind his dark eyes there is a mind which harbors no qualms about killing.

Appearance: Like nearly all kenku, Fist resembles a humanoid crow, with dark feathers and deep, almost soulless black eyes. He has lost his home twice, first as a young bird, and later as an adult, and so now he spends his time out of doors, training and philosophizing on death, the nature of it, and the many different ways in which creatures die. He finds that people in the city find his dark, deep black eyes disconcerting, and in fact he seems to nearly exude a fearful, deadly aura which keeps others at bay from him, although they cannot place why he is so frightening. He cares not for money, nor for his physical appearance, so his clothing is essentially rags.

Backstory:
[Series of quiet chirps. Cry of a mourning dove. Loud pounding of a fist on a door. The splintering of wood. An angry caw! A sword plunging into flesh. Rapid sound of running feet. Screaming caws Calming sound of a campfire. A loud *CRACK* of knots exploding in a fire. The crashing of timbers. The shattering of glass. Weeping. Mournful cawing. Running feet. A yawn. The soothing sound of rain. Thunder. The sound of soft knocking. A kindly old man's voice]
"Come in, little bird. What has happened? Why are you covered in blood? And you look singed! What happened? Was there a fire?"
[That same old man's voice, repeated through the beak of a crow]
"Fire? Fire? has happened? bird. blood? bird. blood? bird. blood? little bird. Come in"
[The sound of a ticking clock. The sound of many fists pounding against many wooden posts. The roar of dozens of training monks]
"HYAHHH!"
[The sound of one quiet fist striking a wooden post. The sound of one training monk]
"Hyahhh!"
[The sound of the old man speaking again]
"I have taught you everything that I can, but this place is no longer safe. The city is under attack."
"safe. safe. attack. this place... safe. I attack. everything."
[The sound of the old man chuckling]
"Yes, I'm sure you will. Goodbye, Little Bird, I love you."
[The sound of weeping]
"Goodbye...I love you. Goodbye...I love you"


RP Sample:
 


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Last edited by Noquarter19; Nov 12th, 2020 at 01:00 AM.
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  #28  
Old Nov 8th, 2020, 05:08 PM
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Arthilian01 Arthilian01 is offline
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Ooh boy, I am sorry I clogged up your thread with a placeholder for several days but a product has come out of it!

Lady Andria Linnox, the Knight and Paladin of Torm is complete.
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  #29  
Old Nov 8th, 2020, 05:19 PM
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Some good applications coming through, keep them coming
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  #30  
Old Nov 9th, 2020, 11:48 AM
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Maskain Maskain is online now
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Creed got his wings. Now that I think of it he's probably the sort of guy that gets wings and beer once a week at a local pub. He's done in most regards. Might work in some of his perspective on other characters, since I always find those fun to read and write.
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