OOC - Character Workshop

For the Rules, Character Workshop, and other general discussion of the game.
Post Reply
User avatar
mindstalk
Typo-Seeking Missile
Posts: 916
Joined: November 9th, 2007, 10:05 am
Contact:

Re: OOC - Character Workshop

Post by mindstalk »

"he tried to fondle the one who later became Castration. At the time, she had Kawaii's giant mallet"

Concussion, then? The ones in ES text are Copulation (Nookie), Coquette (Kawaii), Concussion (Nuts), Continuity (added stuff), and Chican- (presumed Chicanery)
User avatar
Imp-Chan
Not Yet Dead
Posts: 1407
Joined: August 10th, 2007, 11:03 am
Twitter @: ImpChan
Location: Seoul, South Korea
Contact:

Re: OOC - Character Workshop

Post by Imp-Chan »

According to Poe, Concussion later became Castration, but she had the giant mallet originally. Kawaii got it as a hand-me-down.

However, for simplicity, I tried to go with the old EN name. Guess it didn't simplify things afterall.

^-^'
Because scary little devil girls have to stick together.
Image
User avatar
Graybeard
The Heretical Admin
Posts: 7147
Joined: August 20th, 2007, 8:26 am
Location: Nuevo Mexico y Colorado, Estados Unidos

Re: OOC - Character Workshop

Post by Graybeard »

Layla is turning out to be interesting enough to write about that I suppose I'd better develop her as has been done for others here...

Name: Layla Samuels, nee Sorensen; alias Andrea Samuels

Age: 25

Occupation: Winemaker, mother, and Gewehr Wraith, although only the first two are common knowledge...

Appearance: Layla is of average height and slender build, or at least she will be once she loses the last of her "baby fat." She has long brown hair and brown eyes, an oval face, and delicate features. She dresses casually but well ... unless she's on a job. She is frequently seen carrying her son in a backpack-carrier -- although sometimes, what she's actually carrying in the thing is definitely not her child.

History: Layla is the daughter of Gewehr moderately-big shot Faye, who raised her as a single mother, carefully weaving a fiction about a "father" who died before Layla was born and never revealing (to Layla or anyone else) that Mr. Gabriel, a really big shot in the Gewehr, was actually her father. Her unusual intelligence and physical dexterity was obvious at an early age, and she started functioning in the organization before she was a teenager, to the point that she bought into the mercenary moral code (such as it is) without even knowing there are alternatives. Her promise was so great that at age 21, she was put in charge of the startup effort to open a Gewehr operation in Kiyoka. Everything was going swimmingly -- until she met Arty Samuels, another full Wraith and her second in command, and vastly less competent than she herself was. Even Layla has emotions, and she was soon head over heels in love with this guy; they married about two years back and are now parents of six-month-old Zachary, below. By mutual agreement, Layla stopped doing "field work" as soon as she knew Zachary was en route and now handles (or more accurately, handled, prior to the events of our tale) the administrative functions of the Gewehr presence and leaves the "wet work" to Arty and the thugs. However, she's still a crack shot (and frequently packs well-concealed heat), unexpectedly lethal in hand-to-hand combat, has marvelous endurance and resistance to injury, climbs and hides like a ninja, and would still just as soon kill you as look at you ... if it's business and you're not part of the family. She's smooth enough, however, that no one outside the Gewehr knows just how lethal she can be, and she's well respected in Kiyoka as the up-and-coming young proprietress of Rising Moon Vineyards, their "cover" operation.

Familiar?: Zachary -- not her familiar, but her 6-month-old son. He is a perfectly ordinary baby, apart from a spectacularly sunny and even temperament that causes Layla (and Arty, when he was alive) to call him "The Golden Child." Layla loves him beyond words and hopes she can protect him from life among the Gewehr. She can't, of course.

Any resemblance to Pattie Boyd is purely coincidental.
Image

Because old is wise, does good, and above all, kicks ass.
AdamZero
Mage/Priest War Veteran
Posts: 400
Joined: August 15th, 2008, 5:04 am
Location: Behind the guy on the left of the thing over there

Re: OOC - Character Workshop

Post by AdamZero »

Name: Marcus (last name stripped from him, was "Fielder")
Age: 19
Occupation: Vagabond, outcast, hire-able hand, Mage(ish): no formal training impulse magick mostly (Fire/Earth focused also Un-liscensed), Necromancer (that last one isn't public, so shoosh about it)
Appearance: Imagine for a moment an average 19 year old male...the sort that grows up in a society that expect you to work sun up to sun down.

At around 5'8" he stands with a slight slouch, more from traveling tire. His hair is a mess, and hasn't been cut in at least two years (though he keeps it clean with hygiene spells), the tangle of hair is the first thing that attacks attention. The scar is the next. A long horizontal slash across an otherwise nice, gentle, face, along the line just below his nose. The scar draws one to his blue-gray eyes. Fierce, a little bloodshot, but not mean. They don't say "I'm dangerous" so much as they say, "Dangers around me".

While his body is still fit from manual labor in a rural town, his arms are slowly loosing their tone, but his legs maintain their form from all his walking. His abs are apparent, but not 'ripped' to any degree, the same with the rest of his muscles. His feet, if he's not wearing shoes, show clear signs he's walked everywhere he's gone his whole life since standing.

His outfits tend to be whatever he can manage. Loose tunics, worn out pants, and makeshift cloaks...lots of those, he burns through them fast, literally. He does, however, manage to keep three pieces of his rough ensemble intact.

A black oak staff, a strange pouch filled with graveyard dirt, and his money purse, which always seems to have just enough coppers for the night. Alone. In that quiet room in the inn nobody goes in cause of the 'voices'.

History: Raised with the intent to be another pair of hands, a quiet mouth that only ate and never spoke back, and maybe a 'seed' to 'sow' in a slightly better family 'field', Marcus wasn't the apple of his father's eye. He was fifth of seven where four (including him) were boys. On the down side, he didn't gain much attention in the way of love, affection, support, etc. On the upside, it meant that if his chores were done, he was free to do whatever he wanted; if he could avoid his elder siblings. Something almost impossible until he turned ten...when he found he could move earth.

He figured it was magic, but he kept his mouth shut, and practiced whenever everyone else was working. Not at night, alone, in the dark, because that cliche always leads to someone finding out, as Marcus had discerned from the tales the old men told at the village's tavern. He didn't focus on the fact that the people were burned, or went crazy. That was because they were caught before they knew how to handle themselves...Marcus being the bright and observant 'lesser child'.

So he soon learned how to control enough ground that when his manipulative siblings came looking for him in the fields, he was right under their feet, laughing, and making the fields a bit more fertile if he could manage it. Days and weeks passed and Marcus found fire to also fall into his grasp, his fingers moving about, and as his lips made rhymes to draw his will to his power, he began to wonder what else he could do.

Fate, it seemed, decided to throw him a bit of a jagged bone. One night he was traveling home from the tavern where he and his friends celebrated his 18th birthday, the first he'd been able to celebrate away from his family; never getting 'gifts' only hand-me-downs from them. There, with the moon gone from the sky, and the stars almost veiled by an autumn storm, he met a strange figure.

Even he forgets what he said, what he heard, or the full measure of the exchange, but in the bag of gifts from his friends, was a book. A book of the dead.

Now this wasn't THE book of the dead. or even A 'The book of the dead'. Rather it was the something like Necromancy for the rookie mage.

After avoiding his siblings, those who still lived in the main house anyway, he sorted through his gifts, opened up a bottle of sweet water and began to read.

He kept reading till dawn, entranced, and empowered. The book dissolved into graveyard soil, which he caught in a small bag, which he hung around his neck. He worked that one day harder than he had in his whole life, outshining his brothers in his diligence and physical strength. Of course this brought his father's attention to him, and when one of his siblings snitched he'd been reading a strange book, which had vanished in mystery, the night before...well one thing leads to another.

A back water town doesn't take kindly to anyone who steps out of pace with their form and function.

But before anyone could so much as say 'Heresy'. He was gone. His room almost bare, and when they searched in the neighboring towns, out of 'public concern' they found one such town had seen him, and there he'd pawned off much of everything he owned for rations, a cloak, and a staff.

And so he wanders....
User avatar
Drannin
Prince of Space
Posts: 1350
Joined: August 15th, 2008, 2:46 pm

Re: OOC - Character Workshop

Post by Drannin »

Name: Argus Cleiviein (Currently calls himself "Argie")
Age: 48
Occupation: Mage, vagabond, drunk, lech, weird old man

Description: About 5'10 and very thin, almost gaunt... except for the very noticeable beer gut he's been steadily working on. Silver hair, kept short on top but with a long beard he manages to keep clean. Deep gray, almost silver eyes, and a heavily lined face.Wears the tattered remains of a mage's robe, improvised with certain articles that keep it intact, such as stitching, to the Errant Story version of duct-tape. His expression is usually bleary and a little stunned, but turn very piercing when he feels motivated... which is to say, not very often.
Overall, Argus used to be a very striking man, but has long since fallen from grace. Imagine a majestic old mansion that has fallen into disrepair, and you get the idea.

Origin: Argus used to be somebody. He was noted and well-placed in the society of Tsuirkushiti. However, something happened. No one, aside from those who judged him, know all of the details. Rumours persist, however. One rumour is that Argus was dabbling in forbidden magic of extreme power and things went very, very wrong. Another rumor is that he tried his hand at politics and got screwed over. Perhaps the most lurid one involves his perfecting the magic to animate female underwear. No one really knows, and when asked, Argus just rolls his eyes and bitterly mutters about "those disc-living a******s."
Whatever happened, Argus found himself exile from Tsuirkushiti with nothing more than the clothes on his back and an old staff. Since then, he just wanders from town to town, doing various chores with the magic left to him just to get by. Most of his money gets spent on alcohol and strippers.
Argus gives off the vibe that he just doesn't give a damn anymore. He was once something to be admired, but now he just...is. However, the old humor and the sharp mind still lurk underneath all the debris, and heaven help any man who gives him trouble: drunk or not, Argus still has considerable power under his command.
Unfortunately, he normally just uses it to command booze to walk into his open mouth.

Family: Wife, deceased. Son, deceased. Daughter, estranged. Familiar, presently not on speaking terms (something about soap and melons).

Capabilities: As noted, Argus has really let himself go, and no longer command the power he once did. However, he is an absolute master at manipulating nonliving matter, able to reshape it to his needs as long as he his expending mana. He also has fair skill with lightning skills. Finally, when sorely pressed, Argus can be surprisingly skilled with is staff, able to twirl and strike with it like a hurricane. He tends to avoid doing this, though. It tends to throw his back out.

(This is my basic character design. Any suggestions or comments? Which story arc should he start out in?)
User avatar
Reason
New Poster
Posts: 8
Joined: August 22nd, 2008, 9:42 am

Re: OOC - Character Workshop

Post by Reason »

Name: Aden Mrassis (AY-den M-ra-sis)

Age: 26

Race: One of the rarish quarter elves, father was a half-elf, mother was Farrelan.

Occupation: "Hedge Mage (explained below.)"

Description: (before I start, most of this is based on what I loosely understand of Farrel, So I am quite happily prepared to be corrected.) He takes after his father only slightly, only his green eyes and very slightly pointed ears even hint that he might have some elven blood in him. His complexion is dark but not quite as much as whole Farrelans. His body is lean and lanky. Without his shirt on you can count his ribs and his arms are overlong, giving him the perpetual look of slouching. Though awkward looking, he moves with a quiet control that speaks volumes of his hard life. At a glance at his high-end but heavily worn clothes, one would either guess that he was fallen nobility or that he spent a month's worth of money on nice clothes and is doing his damnedest to keep them that way, despite heavy use. He has a staff that is always around him. This is placed in description because it is always around him.Always.

A little back story.

Aden was born in the parts of Farrel that really, really hate magic. This was a problem for Aden 'cause from a very young age (right around the time he started to hold his own bottle) he had a high interest and aptitude for magic. When he was four a dog barked at him, and in fright, he blew it up.

The dog wasn't hurt too much, the spell being mostly light, but it can't see out of its right eye and the fur never grew back on its face. But you get the point.

Aden's mother had to flee the town afterwards to avoid being stoned for birthing a freak. She schooled Aden in the arts of "Don't you ever do magic again you little shit" and they lived happily for all of a week before Aden figured out what mother didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

A few years passed and Aden's mother died, leaving the young wannabe mage to fend for himself. At the tender age of twelve (I figure that's around 10 human years?) Aden struck out on his own striking out for Veracia... But ending up in the Northern Territories. You know how these things go. Stowaway on a wrong boat, end up a couple thousand miles off course. Anyway, off to the Northern Confederacy to--

--be caught by slavers. Luckily he was sold to a gigantic(literally, he's huge, massively fat) ass who only wanted cheap labor and not a priest who wanted... something else.

Aden displayed rare intelligence upon his capture and hid his magical abilities ('cause, you know, they hit him on the back of the head when he was sleeping and he woke up three days later chained to a stake.) Two years passed while he toiled under the brutal rule of the BFF--Big Fat Fuck--practicing magic when he could, until one day an opportunity presented itself. He strangled the bastard with that cord he had used to summon the servants.

Knowing that slaves who kill their masters don't live too long on the market, Aden made the wise decision to disappear and headed back to Farrel.

Finally something went right for him. After his long voyage with little food and no shoes, and then another long trek through the back roads of Farrel, Aden happened upon his first friend. An old man that went by the apt name "Old Man." Apparently he was one of the continents few practicing mages, healing those who weren't, as he said, "Stuck-up inbred idiots afraid of their own shadows," and that had a little money to allow him to travel to the next town.

Old Man took young Aden under his wing, and whats more, didn't make any attempts to molest him. Which, with all that has happened, surprised Aden. But no, Aden lived a hard, but happy life under the wing of Old Man.

To wrap it up, Old Man died a touching death, said Aden was like a son to him, yadda, yadda, yadda. Aden, now in his twenties, struck out on his own, somehow acquired a very powerful staff/thing, went traveling. His hatred for the world has not changed very much, but for some reason anything with tits is spared his ire. Go figure.


(Okay, edited. Am I right about Farrel having a magic taboo? Or am I nuts?)
Last edited by Reason on August 23rd, 2008, 1:23 am, edited 1 time in total.
User avatar
Viking-Sensei
Evil Admin Overlord
Posts: 1193
Joined: August 14th, 2007, 12:18 pm
Twitter @: Kallisti_x
Location: Vikingopolis, USA
Contact:

Re: OOC - Character Workshop

Post by Viking-Sensei »

Sounds good to me, although I do have one suggestion... we've not really seen any evidence of slave trade going on much in Farrel, so while he was captured there, I think you should consider about having his actual servitude take place in the Northern Territories, since they're far more anything-goes wild-and-crazy than Farrel was.
How could a plan this awesome possibly fail?
Image
User avatar
Graybeard
The Heretical Admin
Posts: 7147
Joined: August 20th, 2007, 8:26 am
Location: Nuevo Mexico y Colorado, Estados Unidos

Re: OOC - Character Workshop

Post by Graybeard »

Viking-Sensei wrote:Sounds good to me, although I do have one suggestion... we've not really seen any evidence of slave trade going on much in Farrel, so while he was captured there, I think you should consider about having his actual servitude take place in the Northern Territories, since they're far more anything-goes wild-and-crazy than Farrel was.
Or even in the Anuban Colonies. We know they're there (at least they're on the map) but there has been no action there in the main story -- so there are opportunities to let your imagination run amok.
Image

Because old is wise, does good, and above all, kicks ass.
User avatar
LordofNightmares
Forum Regular
Posts: 96
Joined: August 24th, 2008, 3:43 am
Location: Sioux Falls, SD

Re: OOC - Character Workshop

Post by LordofNightmares »

Name: Tsubasa Clarmount , Shade(assassin name)
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Race:Human/Celestial
Class: Assassin
Familiars: Huginn and Muninn, 2 Raven looking Familiars that are her eyes and ears. They are summoned with a device.
Appearance: 5'8" Long Strait black hair, Light Green eyes, Tone body, (if on earth looks to be Asian)
Black Robes fitting but still hides her Katars that are retractable on her forearms, and her Rifle.
Prefers to use the Katar for her kills normally unless there is no other way she will use the Rifle.
Origins:
At the age of 6 her Village was raided, by the Northern Confederate Army, in the mess of the rubbel she was found by Shade an aging assassin took her in. He was getting old and wanted some on to take his mantel. he trained her for 19 years till his death. He trained her in the arts of Assassination, Simple Magics (sleep, camouflage, shadow meld,silence of death, trackless step, Shadow Clone, Shadow Travel), the use of poisons, and Katars, and the Rifle.
During the training she learned taijitsu , to read wright and simple math. When her Mentor passed away she took his jobs and his name in the underworld, Shade.
Family: Mother Dead, Father unknown ,siblings unknown. Shade Mentor/adopted Father.
Personality: Cold, ruthless when she is on the job. Other wise she is a bit rash.

(The old background story just did not seam to fit, and it seams to fit more now since her training would take more than 10 years.)
Last edited by LordofNightmares on October 8th, 2008, 11:11 pm, edited 6 times in total.
User avatar
Imp-Chan
Not Yet Dead
Posts: 1407
Joined: August 10th, 2007, 11:03 am
Twitter @: ImpChan
Location: Seoul, South Korea
Contact:

Re: OOC - Character Workshop

Post by Imp-Chan »

Erm... there's no evidence of either were-people or tigers in the Errant Story universe, and I can't see it happening in this magic system, either. I could see someone choosing to look like a tiger (assuming they exist) using deliberate polymorph magic, though that doesn't fit with the idea of learning only simple magics. We have a lot of mages and gunslingers already, so the idea of someone who is more apt to use genuine stealth and poison is a good one.

Mostly there hasn't been any mention of Nobles, either, although one can plainly see that there are class divisions still present. There was, at one point, a princess or something that went missing, but that was hundreds of years before the story takes place (I think), and now the major players are Veracia (a theocracy... church officials are the closest to a noble class), Farrel (libertarian, again no nobles), and Tsuiraku (which MIGHT have nobles and does have officials, but we haven't seen anybody named as a noble).

^-^'
Because scary little devil girls have to stick together.
Image
Post Reply