And it was said that as the Cleaver himself gazed upon his handiwork, that even his own stalwart eyes could not behold it, and he turned his back on those mountains, and they were a forsaken place.
~ from the Legend of Eirimjol
~ from the Legend of Eirimjol
~~
Silence, broken only by the low-pitched hiss of a chilly wind. Airy frost hung near the surface of the snow, drifting like a delicate fog over the dimpled expanses of whiteness. The light of the setting sun barely shown over the rise above, where the smooth, gently curving blanket of snow merged seamlessly with the clear bleached sky. Two mighty shadows enclosed the edges of the alabaster space, the rocky surfaces of two twin peaks boasting their silent grandure.
A gloved hand sat half-visible in the snow, it's arm slowly dissapearing beneath the whiteness to where it's owner might have lain. Frost coated it's chilled leather like a fungus, icicles hung off of the lifeless digits towards the blanket of cold-blooded condensation below. The fingers splayed outwards, forever frozen into an eternal, desperate reach for the hilt of a broken sword mere inches away.
Nearby lay more corpses, more lifeless shells, their flesh frozen into the glacial palor that surrounded them. Some men, some women, some children, some unrecognizeable, all chilled to the spots where they fell. The dark stain of blood just below the fresh coat of snowflakes did not speak tales nor mysteries of their ends; the violent canyons and crevases carved into the whiteness where their legs fought the snow did not wail of their struggle. The icy wind continued it's spiritless glide over their shallow and apathetic graves.
The death continued toward the crest of the narrow mounatian pass, where the roots of the two opposing peaks met and formed a smooth "U" shape against the pallid light of the setting sun. Many stolid shapes broke the skyline there, like gaps in the teeth of some great, seamless, uncaring grin. Piles of bodies, clad in rusted iron, strewn across the ridgeline where they had fallen. Weapons jutted into the air, the stump of an arm lifted skyward to where it had once held aloft a mighty blade. All around them, the lumpy forms of many huge, hairy corpses, laying face down in the whiteness where their savage charge had been broken. In the center of the gap, the body of a soldier hung lifeless and stiff from the shaft of a massive spear, his face drawn and bony, his skin frosted over and whiter than the snow beneath him.
The stones would not sing their praise, the wind would not carry their hope and resilience to waiting ears. No bards or songsmiths would write tales of their valor, no children would listen wide-eyed to re-tellings of the harrowing danger and struggle they faced. The mountains would be silent, stony-faced in their constant solitude, and no whisper of these warrior's deaths would reach the already broken world outside that could not remember it.
And so their story must be told, one last time, lest it be forever lost.
~~
[HEADING=3]Welcome, Escapees, to Atulon's Pass...[/HEADING] ...an RP about honor, struggle, sacrifice, and snow. More than that, it is about swordplay and beating goblin's heads in. It is also about hairy monkey men and swarms of ravenous wolves. It is about bitter cold and shadowy beasts, hidden magic and sudden, lethal avalanches. Above all, however, it is about a story. The story of a group of men (and women), brothers and sisters in arms, who must fight to defend the innocent, fight to defend each other, and fight to survive.
This will be a fairly short RP, as RP's go, but will require a good bit of writing skill and imagination. I'm going to warn you now; many parts of this story will not be easy to narrate, as it is not a story about battles. It is a story about survival. Battles will take place, yes, but a good majority of the struggles our ordinary soldiers must face will be in the form of cold, sickness, starvation, avalanches, storms, delirium, and the simple will to go on. Talented writers will be needed to tell this tale, and so not all of you will get in.
The Setting
This story, this tale, takes place in the low fantasy setting of some unnamed Empire, which is besieged by a vicious enemy from the east. You, the players, will form a small unit of tight-knit soldiers who have been tasked with defending a town on the borders of civilization, high in the foothills at the roots of a mighty and dangerous mountain range. It is the dead of winter, a blizzard has struck, and the village and surrounding countryside are snowed in, awaiting a lull in the weather that will allow the rest of their army to join them. Once the reinforcements arrive, the villagers can then be escorted down the river to the coast, where they can be evacuated safely and properly.
Of course, things never go according to plan. An enemy army appears out of nowhere, and the small group of soldiers will be forced to do the unthinkable; escort the entire village across the mountains, in the dead of winter, with no supplies or reinforcements.
To aid you in visualizing this world, I have scribed up a map, for your viewing pleasure.
Ye Ole' Map
Highburn is the small mountain town where the tale shall begin. Falkin is a port at the mouth of the river, where the villagers would have been taken if an enemy army had not shown up. Bydell is a port far on the western edge of the Mountains, the only other place the villagers can go to be evacuated to safety.
To the north and northeast are the Copper Wastes, a harsh, inhospitable land of sand and rock that stretch for hundreds of miles.
To the east and southeast is the Eastern half of the Empire, and also the part that is under seige.
To the south and west is the Ash sea. The Mountains end in a peninsula just off the edge of the map.
Far across the Ash sea to the west is the Western Empire, where the refugees are aiming to be evacuated to.
Highburn is the small mountain town where the tale shall begin. Falkin is a port at the mouth of the river, where the villagers would have been taken if an enemy army had not shown up. Bydell is a port far on the western edge of the Mountains, the only other place the villagers can go to be evacuated to safety.
To the north and northeast are the Copper Wastes, a harsh, inhospitable land of sand and rock that stretch for hundreds of miles.
To the east and southeast is the Eastern half of the Empire, and also the part that is under seige.
To the south and west is the Ash sea. The Mountains end in a peninsula just off the edge of the map.
Far across the Ash sea to the west is the Western Empire, where the refugees are aiming to be evacuated to.
1. Obvious Rules. All the standard RP regulations. No character control, godmodding, no trenchcoating, no Mary Suing, no trolling, etc etc. If PvP should take place, the standard combat rules apply. If you're an experienced RPer, you'll know what these are.
2. My word is Law. I am a Nazi, and I can transcend the rules and smite your character with fire and brimstone if I want to, so don't mess with me. Take things seriously, don't be an a-hole, and we'll get along just fine.
3. Be serious. Although there will be times for humor, this is a decidedly serious and somber RP. It's also realistic. I'd appreciate it if you stuck with the mood and with standard laws of physics.
4. Spelling and Grammar. Yea. Spell rite, or I'll pwn u 2 de47h. Slip ups and typos happen, but please try to form cognitive sentences and arrange your thoughts in readable shapes.
5. Unnamed NPC. Unnamed NPC's are any people or entities in the story that are not named or are of little importance as far as plot-changing goes. In this RP, some examples of an unnamed NPC would be; a random villager, a grunt goblin, a wolf, or a badger. You are free to use these NPC as you would like when interacting with them.
2. My word is Law. I am a Nazi, and I can transcend the rules and smite your character with fire and brimstone if I want to, so don't mess with me. Take things seriously, don't be an a-hole, and we'll get along just fine.
3. Be serious. Although there will be times for humor, this is a decidedly serious and somber RP. It's also realistic. I'd appreciate it if you stuck with the mood and with standard laws of physics.
4. Spelling and Grammar. Yea. Spell rite, or I'll pwn u 2 de47h. Slip ups and typos happen, but please try to form cognitive sentences and arrange your thoughts in readable shapes.
5. Unnamed NPC. Unnamed NPC's are any people or entities in the story that are not named or are of little importance as far as plot-changing goes. In this RP, some examples of an unnamed NPC would be; a random villager, a grunt goblin, a wolf, or a badger. You are free to use these NPC as you would like when interacting with them.
Before going into this, I'd like to make one thing clear; these men and women will not be mercenaries or "super soldiers" or any kind of "special warriors". They will be simple, ordinary soldiers. Flashy, colorful appearances are not what will make them unique and interesting, their personalities and characters are what will do that. That being said, it will not surprise you that your choices on equipment and armor will be limited. Standard issue gear is the order of the day.
Now, for the second part of my character monologue that you must suffer through. I am going to do something interesting with this RP. Not only will you be controlling a soldier, but you will also have the opportunity to control a villager. The reason for this is because I want to give the villagers as much life as possible, to make them worth defending, and the best way to do that is to put them into the hands of the players. [small](also because most of you will die, and this will give you a chance to keep going if you still have another character alive)[/small]
Controlling a villager is in no way mandatory, it's only if you want to. If you do want to, PM me with the character after you've submitted your main soldier.
Now, for the second part of my character monologue that you must suffer through. I am going to do something interesting with this RP. Not only will you be controlling a soldier, but you will also have the opportunity to control a villager. The reason for this is because I want to give the villagers as much life as possible, to make them worth defending, and the best way to do that is to put them into the hands of the players. [small](also because most of you will die, and this will give you a chance to keep going if you still have another character alive)[/small]
Controlling a villager is in no way mandatory, it's only if you want to. If you do want to, PM me with the character after you've submitted your main soldier.
Name: S/E. This is a serious fantasy setting, so stay away from names live Steve, Bob, or TheAmazingOrgasmo.
Age: Anywhere from 18 to 60
Gender: S/E
Appearance: How tall they are, what color hair, etc. Any interesting scars or marks. Be descriptive.
Equipment: You will be able to choose between Heavy and Light armor. Heavy is iron plate, Light is leather. Every soldier is required to have a shield, beyond that the weapons are up to you (within reason). Bow and arrows, two-handed battle axes, maces, etc. No Eastern weapons like Katanas or throwing stars.
Personality: Be descriptive here as well. They're all gonna look the same with their armor on, so giving them distinctive and detailed personalities would be appreciated.
Backstory: The back-stories can be a bit vague for now, as we'll be blending them together and fleshing them out once all the characters are chosen. Still, a good paragraph would be nice here.
To clarify: Our characters will already have histories together, will have already been in battles, and should generally be experienced soldiers. We'll be blending their histories together once the accepted have been chosen.
Extra: Any other little interesting bits of information, like habits or phobias, that didn't fit in the categories above.
Age: Anywhere from 18 to 60
Gender: S/E
Appearance: How tall they are, what color hair, etc. Any interesting scars or marks. Be descriptive.
Equipment: You will be able to choose between Heavy and Light armor. Heavy is iron plate, Light is leather. Every soldier is required to have a shield, beyond that the weapons are up to you (within reason). Bow and arrows, two-handed battle axes, maces, etc. No Eastern weapons like Katanas or throwing stars.
Personality: Be descriptive here as well. They're all gonna look the same with their armor on, so giving them distinctive and detailed personalities would be appreciated.
Backstory: The back-stories can be a bit vague for now, as we'll be blending them together and fleshing them out once all the characters are chosen. Still, a good paragraph would be nice here.
To clarify: Our characters will already have histories together, will have already been in battles, and should generally be experienced soldiers. We'll be blending their histories together once the accepted have been chosen.
Extra: Any other little interesting bits of information, like habits or phobias, that didn't fit in the categories above.
Name: S/E
Age: Villagers can be any age you want, from small children to the elderly. Just keep in mind your ability to roleplay these ages, and the fact that very old people will probably die quickly.
Gender: S/E
Appearance: S/E
Equipment: Normal stuff that a villager would have. Try to stay away from contemporary weapons or expensive items. This field can be left blank if you wish, as it will probably change d drastically once the evacuation occurs.
Personality: S/E
Backstory: The only requirement I have is that Highburn is their home, or that they at least have some strong connection to it. Something that will make them sad to have to leave.
Age: Villagers can be any age you want, from small children to the elderly. Just keep in mind your ability to roleplay these ages, and the fact that very old people will probably die quickly.
Gender: S/E
Appearance: S/E
Equipment: Normal stuff that a villager would have. Try to stay away from contemporary weapons or expensive items. This field can be left blank if you wish, as it will probably change d drastically once the evacuation occurs.
Personality: S/E
Backstory: The only requirement I have is that Highburn is their home, or that they at least have some strong connection to it. Something that will make them sad to have to leave.
Soldiers
More to be added soon.
Villagers
More to be added soon.
Name: Buyir Mal
Age: 33
Gender: Male
Appearance: Buyir is a tall, burly man with long legs and broad shoulders. His dirty blonde hair is kept long, as is his large, bushy beard (of which he is very proud of). His face is very handsome and statuesque, and always animated. His eyes are bright blue, always sparkling. A fairly prominent scar runs along his forehead, just above the left brow, but does little to harm his good looks. He has a wiry, muscular runner's physique.
Equipment: Buyir wears leather armor, preferring it's light weight and mobility to the clunkier iron plate. His weapons, besides the standard issue sheild, are a shortsword and a two-handed steel battleaxe. The sword is mostly just a backup weapon, as he preferes to use the axe. He also carries a hunting knife, some basic survival gear, and a fur cloak.
Personality: Buyir is a jovial, friendly fellow, who makes friends easily and is always up for a good time. He is boistrous and loud, always happy and laughing when in good company. He can be a bit irritating to people with more mellow, calm personalities, and often does not understand their ways of thinking, but is a fun person to be around nonetheless. It's hard to complain about his attitude.
Buyir is a feirce and loyal friend, passionate about those he cares for. If someone close to him is done harm or insulted wrongly, he will turn savage in a moment, having no inhibitions about beating the living hell out of anyone who has it coming. In battle he is wild and fierce, coming down like a hurricane on those enemies unlucky enough to be in his path.
Backstory: Buyir was a farmer's son, and then a farmer's servant, and then a farmer himself. Well, almost. He would have built his own farm and raised horses, but he was drafted before that dream could become a reality. Once in the army, however, he made bonding friendships and realized that protecting them was a much better dream. He has known and served under Rinus for ten years now, and the two are very close friends. Buyir is well liked by the rest of the unit, and is often regarded as the "class clown", bringing some degree of laughter and joy when there may be none.
Extra: Buyir has a strong love of horses. All animals, really, but particularly horses.
Age: 33
Gender: Male
Appearance: Buyir is a tall, burly man with long legs and broad shoulders. His dirty blonde hair is kept long, as is his large, bushy beard (of which he is very proud of). His face is very handsome and statuesque, and always animated. His eyes are bright blue, always sparkling. A fairly prominent scar runs along his forehead, just above the left brow, but does little to harm his good looks. He has a wiry, muscular runner's physique.
Equipment: Buyir wears leather armor, preferring it's light weight and mobility to the clunkier iron plate. His weapons, besides the standard issue sheild, are a shortsword and a two-handed steel battleaxe. The sword is mostly just a backup weapon, as he preferes to use the axe. He also carries a hunting knife, some basic survival gear, and a fur cloak.
Personality: Buyir is a jovial, friendly fellow, who makes friends easily and is always up for a good time. He is boistrous and loud, always happy and laughing when in good company. He can be a bit irritating to people with more mellow, calm personalities, and often does not understand their ways of thinking, but is a fun person to be around nonetheless. It's hard to complain about his attitude.
Buyir is a feirce and loyal friend, passionate about those he cares for. If someone close to him is done harm or insulted wrongly, he will turn savage in a moment, having no inhibitions about beating the living hell out of anyone who has it coming. In battle he is wild and fierce, coming down like a hurricane on those enemies unlucky enough to be in his path.
Backstory: Buyir was a farmer's son, and then a farmer's servant, and then a farmer himself. Well, almost. He would have built his own farm and raised horses, but he was drafted before that dream could become a reality. Once in the army, however, he made bonding friendships and realized that protecting them was a much better dream. He has known and served under Rinus for ten years now, and the two are very close friends. Buyir is well liked by the rest of the unit, and is often regarded as the "class clown", bringing some degree of laughter and joy when there may be none.
Extra: Buyir has a strong love of horses. All animals, really, but particularly horses.
Name: Iovynne "Io"
Age: 31
Gender: Female
Appearence: Io is the defeniton of a "handsome" woman. She is agrresive and able-bodied, with a cut jawline and high, proud brow. She is not ugly, or manly persay, just battle-hardened and strong, a warrior-woman. Her body, though still retaining some of it's femenine curves, is very muscled and lean, with none of the top-heavy nonsense of, in her own words, "boring women". Her sharp green eyes are set keenly above a wide nose and heavy lips, her dark brown hair is always braided down her back in a long ponytail. Io's skin is tanned and well-scarred.
Equipment: Io's armor is the standard iron plate, mith the small adjustment of metal studs embedded in the knuckles of her gauntlets. She carries a wider sheild than standard, without markings or crest, but bearing thousands of dents and gashes. Her weapon of choice is her trusty battlehammer, a one-handed weapon with a spike on one side and heavy bludgeoning ball on the other. She also carries a shortword on her belt.
Personality: Ever the headtrong girl, Io doesn't take no for an answer and never backs down from a fight. She's very aggresive, both on the feild of battle and with people, making her opinions and thoughts very clear very quickly. Those who know her well will say that she's passionate and to the point, those who don't know her will say she's rude and scary. She generally dislikes men or romance of any sort, saving her deep, hidden feelings for those special guys who aren't "disgusting perverted hogs".
She has some aggression issues that go deeper than simply short-temperateness. Her entire life she has had to prove herself to not just men, but everyone, and that attitude has continued, making her over-zealous when it comes to making people notice and respect her. Her time with the unit, surrounded by people who clearly love and respect her, has helped to even her out.
Backstory: She never knew her parents, who apparently left her on the doorstep of an orphanage one night and then disappeared. The care-taker's named her Iovynne, after the special star that had been visible in the sky that night. A last name was never given, should she perchance find her family one day.
Io took a lot of grief for being a girl when she was little, growing up in the orphangae. She was always wanting to take part in the sports and stickfights with the boys, but was never allowed. Instead she was confined indoors and taught how to cook, clean, and sew, while the snot-nosed dull-brained brats had fun outside. It was not until she was a teenager, and given more freedom, that she was able to engage in men's activities, and she swiftly proved her worth when she nearly killed a full-grown adult male for making innapropriate advances on her. He was bed-ridden for months, and had a bad limp for the rest of his days.
Extra: Hates to be called any kind of demeaning name. She also has an irrational fear of heights, but will not openly admit it.
Age: 31
Gender: Female
Appearence: Io is the defeniton of a "handsome" woman. She is agrresive and able-bodied, with a cut jawline and high, proud brow. She is not ugly, or manly persay, just battle-hardened and strong, a warrior-woman. Her body, though still retaining some of it's femenine curves, is very muscled and lean, with none of the top-heavy nonsense of, in her own words, "boring women". Her sharp green eyes are set keenly above a wide nose and heavy lips, her dark brown hair is always braided down her back in a long ponytail. Io's skin is tanned and well-scarred.
Equipment: Io's armor is the standard iron plate, mith the small adjustment of metal studs embedded in the knuckles of her gauntlets. She carries a wider sheild than standard, without markings or crest, but bearing thousands of dents and gashes. Her weapon of choice is her trusty battlehammer, a one-handed weapon with a spike on one side and heavy bludgeoning ball on the other. She also carries a shortword on her belt.
Personality: Ever the headtrong girl, Io doesn't take no for an answer and never backs down from a fight. She's very aggresive, both on the feild of battle and with people, making her opinions and thoughts very clear very quickly. Those who know her well will say that she's passionate and to the point, those who don't know her will say she's rude and scary. She generally dislikes men or romance of any sort, saving her deep, hidden feelings for those special guys who aren't "disgusting perverted hogs".
She has some aggression issues that go deeper than simply short-temperateness. Her entire life she has had to prove herself to not just men, but everyone, and that attitude has continued, making her over-zealous when it comes to making people notice and respect her. Her time with the unit, surrounded by people who clearly love and respect her, has helped to even her out.
Backstory: She never knew her parents, who apparently left her on the doorstep of an orphanage one night and then disappeared. The care-taker's named her Iovynne, after the special star that had been visible in the sky that night. A last name was never given, should she perchance find her family one day.
Io took a lot of grief for being a girl when she was little, growing up in the orphangae. She was always wanting to take part in the sports and stickfights with the boys, but was never allowed. Instead she was confined indoors and taught how to cook, clean, and sew, while the snot-nosed dull-brained brats had fun outside. It was not until she was a teenager, and given more freedom, that she was able to engage in men's activities, and she swiftly proved her worth when she nearly killed a full-grown adult male for making innapropriate advances on her. He was bed-ridden for months, and had a bad limp for the rest of his days.
Extra: Hates to be called any kind of demeaning name. She also has an irrational fear of heights, but will not openly admit it.
Name: Jutani Teibor
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Appearance: Jutani is a very handsome man, with wavy black hair, a rugged complexion, and startling gray-blue eyes that seem to stand out from the rest of his face as something special. A sly smile often marks his lips, usually accompanied by a twinkle in his eyes and an overly confident spring to hsi steps. He is of average height and weight, if not a little on the skinny side, but makes up for it with an extremely athletic body and toned, chiselled muscles.
Equipment: Jutani wears iron plate armor with a few of the pieces removed to allow for better maneuverability. He carries the standard longsword and sheild, but also has two matching shortswords that he keeps on his back. He has a habit of duel-weilding these blades, much to the chagrin of some of the older veterans, who view that fighting style as careless and foolish. He also has a tendancy to remove his helmet in battle, also frowned upon by his elders.
Personality: Cocky, arrogant, romantic, over-confident, egotistical, and attractive are all words that could describe Jutani's personality. He is proud and spunky in his relationships with people, especially women. His desires, goals, and methods, although some would say are immodest and less-than-chivalrous, are nonetheless clever and demonstrate a high level of intelligence and character. He is a dashing, heroic, blade-wielding playboy.
Backstory: Jutani had an easy life compared to many people around him. His family was fairly well-to-do, owning a successful shipping busniess in a beautiful port city in the Western Empire. He went to school, unlike the majority of children, wore nice clothes wihout holes, ate hot, unspoiled food, and had enough free time to enjoy numerous activities such as sports, fishing, and riding. Things weren't perfect for little Jutani however.
His father, being the wealthy busniessman that he was, rarely stayed home for more than a few days. The man was also a micro-manager, obsessed with controlling every detail of his company all the time. He was always talking about some new deal, worrying about quality, and generally being nervous, unlike his son who was content to enjoy life. Thus, Jutani never really had a good father figure.
The result was that Jutani became insecure around other men, especially ones who were involved with "manly" things. His mother and the house maids, then later on teenage girls and childhood sweethearts, were the ones who he was aro9und the most, and he is comfortable with women. In the company of strong, heroic men however, he feels a great deal of pressure to prove himself. His insecurities about men are much like Io's, except that he deals with them in a different way; by getting all the ladies.
Extra: He has taken a shining to Otlina, and has been "unofficially courting her" for a little over a year now, despite the Legion's rules regarding such relationships.
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Appearance: Jutani is a very handsome man, with wavy black hair, a rugged complexion, and startling gray-blue eyes that seem to stand out from the rest of his face as something special. A sly smile often marks his lips, usually accompanied by a twinkle in his eyes and an overly confident spring to hsi steps. He is of average height and weight, if not a little on the skinny side, but makes up for it with an extremely athletic body and toned, chiselled muscles.
Equipment: Jutani wears iron plate armor with a few of the pieces removed to allow for better maneuverability. He carries the standard longsword and sheild, but also has two matching shortswords that he keeps on his back. He has a habit of duel-weilding these blades, much to the chagrin of some of the older veterans, who view that fighting style as careless and foolish. He also has a tendancy to remove his helmet in battle, also frowned upon by his elders.
Personality: Cocky, arrogant, romantic, over-confident, egotistical, and attractive are all words that could describe Jutani's personality. He is proud and spunky in his relationships with people, especially women. His desires, goals, and methods, although some would say are immodest and less-than-chivalrous, are nonetheless clever and demonstrate a high level of intelligence and character. He is a dashing, heroic, blade-wielding playboy.
Backstory: Jutani had an easy life compared to many people around him. His family was fairly well-to-do, owning a successful shipping busniess in a beautiful port city in the Western Empire. He went to school, unlike the majority of children, wore nice clothes wihout holes, ate hot, unspoiled food, and had enough free time to enjoy numerous activities such as sports, fishing, and riding. Things weren't perfect for little Jutani however.
His father, being the wealthy busniessman that he was, rarely stayed home for more than a few days. The man was also a micro-manager, obsessed with controlling every detail of his company all the time. He was always talking about some new deal, worrying about quality, and generally being nervous, unlike his son who was content to enjoy life. Thus, Jutani never really had a good father figure.
The result was that Jutani became insecure around other men, especially ones who were involved with "manly" things. His mother and the house maids, then later on teenage girls and childhood sweethearts, were the ones who he was aro9und the most, and he is comfortable with women. In the company of strong, heroic men however, he feels a great deal of pressure to prove himself. His insecurities about men are much like Io's, except that he deals with them in a different way; by getting all the ladies.
Extra: He has taken a shining to Otlina, and has been "unofficially courting her" for a little over a year now, despite the Legion's rules regarding such relationships.
Name: Otlina Tel
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Appearance: Otlina is a very attractive woman, with raven black hair that falls in flowing locks around her shoulders, dark green almond-shaped eyes, high cheeckbones and full lips. Her body is curved and sumptuous, with an hourglass figure and fair, unblemished skin. She has long legs and a full chest, sporting an all around irresistible figure that she is very aware of. Her looks should not be decieving, however, as she is a deadly fighter, her smooth, flowing muscles containing more strength than they appear to.
Equipment: Despite her coy, girly, sometimes flirty attitude when not in immidiate danger, Otlina is all business when it comes to battle. Looks don't matter when lives are in danger, and so the ugly, dull gray iron plate is her attire. It suits her well, as she is no fast-paced shooter or marathon-running scout. Her weapons are the standard issue shield and a medium-length infantry spear, as well as a longsword strapped to her belt. She weilds the spear with deadly efficientcy, compensating for it's lessened maneuverabilty with powerful, piercing strikes than typically slay an enemy in one hit.
Personality: Otlina is well aware of her beauty, and flaunts it more than occasionally. She is not a slut or a whore, however, and she retains her pride and womanly demeanor, viewing her assets as an advantage over the opposite sex, a useful weapon in the battleground of romance and relationship politics. Not that she doesn't enjoy the attention, of course. Otlina makes no attempts to hide the fact that she is a girly girl, even when in the coompany of soldiers. All is not sunshine, roses, and curvey delights, however. Although Otlina puts on a teasing, flirty, generally happy face, it is often apparent that she is rather sad on the inside. Those who know her well can see it clearly, while those who have just met her may or may not notice the layer of discontent underneath her glossy exterior.
Backstory: Otlina never really wanted to be a soldier. Neither of her parents were soldiers, although her father was drafted when she was still a child, and he ended up dieing a year later on the way home. This had an affect on her in regards to the army and soldiers in general. She didn't like to fight, or even argue really, but soon enough her own time came, when a massive invasion of her native region forced leaders to draft anyone they could find. She was sent off to battle as a nurse, but she had no experience in the feild. It was discovered that she had a strong arm, and so she was handed a spear and told to test her prowess.
Although she dislikes war and fighting, Otlina feels an obligation to the people and the Empire, as well as to her mother and the rest of her village, most of whom were whiped out while she was away doing battle in distant lands.
Extra: She is very aware of the affections she has garnered form Jutani and several others, but has of yet chosen not to act upon them, preferring rather to let them stay in the dark with regards to her feelings. She enjoys the game, after all.
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Appearance: Otlina is a very attractive woman, with raven black hair that falls in flowing locks around her shoulders, dark green almond-shaped eyes, high cheeckbones and full lips. Her body is curved and sumptuous, with an hourglass figure and fair, unblemished skin. She has long legs and a full chest, sporting an all around irresistible figure that she is very aware of. Her looks should not be decieving, however, as she is a deadly fighter, her smooth, flowing muscles containing more strength than they appear to.
Equipment: Despite her coy, girly, sometimes flirty attitude when not in immidiate danger, Otlina is all business when it comes to battle. Looks don't matter when lives are in danger, and so the ugly, dull gray iron plate is her attire. It suits her well, as she is no fast-paced shooter or marathon-running scout. Her weapons are the standard issue shield and a medium-length infantry spear, as well as a longsword strapped to her belt. She weilds the spear with deadly efficientcy, compensating for it's lessened maneuverabilty with powerful, piercing strikes than typically slay an enemy in one hit.
Personality: Otlina is well aware of her beauty, and flaunts it more than occasionally. She is not a slut or a whore, however, and she retains her pride and womanly demeanor, viewing her assets as an advantage over the opposite sex, a useful weapon in the battleground of romance and relationship politics. Not that she doesn't enjoy the attention, of course. Otlina makes no attempts to hide the fact that she is a girly girl, even when in the coompany of soldiers. All is not sunshine, roses, and curvey delights, however. Although Otlina puts on a teasing, flirty, generally happy face, it is often apparent that she is rather sad on the inside. Those who know her well can see it clearly, while those who have just met her may or may not notice the layer of discontent underneath her glossy exterior.
Backstory: Otlina never really wanted to be a soldier. Neither of her parents were soldiers, although her father was drafted when she was still a child, and he ended up dieing a year later on the way home. This had an affect on her in regards to the army and soldiers in general. She didn't like to fight, or even argue really, but soon enough her own time came, when a massive invasion of her native region forced leaders to draft anyone they could find. She was sent off to battle as a nurse, but she had no experience in the feild. It was discovered that she had a strong arm, and so she was handed a spear and told to test her prowess.
Although she dislikes war and fighting, Otlina feels an obligation to the people and the Empire, as well as to her mother and the rest of her village, most of whom were whiped out while she was away doing battle in distant lands.
Extra: She is very aware of the affections she has garnered form Jutani and several others, but has of yet chosen not to act upon them, preferring rather to let them stay in the dark with regards to her feelings. She enjoys the game, after all.
Name: Cossan Bond
Age: 38
Gender: Male
Appearance: Cossan is a heavy man. He is not fat, or obese, or portly, really, his body mass is just in ample supply. He's a little on the short side as well, which gives him a slightly round, fat appearance, but do not let that fool you. He is strong as an ox, and not easily bested in battle. His eyes are a dull amber color, his graying hair is cropped short. He has a fading tattoo of a bull's skull on the back of his neck, which he acquired when he first joined the army.
Equipment: Old, dented heavy armor and a wicked handaxe are Cossan's effects, along with a longsword for backup and his ever-present shield. He wields the one-handed axe with devastating affect, cleaving his enemies skulls and tearing their heads from their shoulders. He takes a joy in battle that some find distasteful, but he finds exhilirating.
Personality: Cossan is a jolly fellow when under the influence of alchohol, which he has a great fondness of. He is still agreeable when sober, but a little less boistrous. He likes to get in fights and throw his weight around, which is good in combat but not so good in public relations. Due to this habit of making people angry and then knocking their lights out, he tends to spend a large amount of time in bars and taverns, where he can excersize his fists without as much bad reprocutions.
Backstory: The son of a lowly farmer, Cossan learned the value of hard work and good beer early on in his life. He grew up a well-rounded (if not a little hot-tempered) individual, and inherited his father's farm once he came of age. He worked the land for seven years, before the draft came and he was sent off the war. He misses the farm and land, which is now under the care of his younger brother, but all in all he is as happy as anyone can be about his current job.
Age: 38
Gender: Male
Appearance: Cossan is a heavy man. He is not fat, or obese, or portly, really, his body mass is just in ample supply. He's a little on the short side as well, which gives him a slightly round, fat appearance, but do not let that fool you. He is strong as an ox, and not easily bested in battle. His eyes are a dull amber color, his graying hair is cropped short. He has a fading tattoo of a bull's skull on the back of his neck, which he acquired when he first joined the army.
Equipment: Old, dented heavy armor and a wicked handaxe are Cossan's effects, along with a longsword for backup and his ever-present shield. He wields the one-handed axe with devastating affect, cleaving his enemies skulls and tearing their heads from their shoulders. He takes a joy in battle that some find distasteful, but he finds exhilirating.
Personality: Cossan is a jolly fellow when under the influence of alchohol, which he has a great fondness of. He is still agreeable when sober, but a little less boistrous. He likes to get in fights and throw his weight around, which is good in combat but not so good in public relations. Due to this habit of making people angry and then knocking their lights out, he tends to spend a large amount of time in bars and taverns, where he can excersize his fists without as much bad reprocutions.
Backstory: The son of a lowly farmer, Cossan learned the value of hard work and good beer early on in his life. He grew up a well-rounded (if not a little hot-tempered) individual, and inherited his father's farm once he came of age. He worked the land for seven years, before the draft came and he was sent off the war. He misses the farm and land, which is now under the care of his younger brother, but all in all he is as happy as anyone can be about his current job.
More to be added soon.
Villagers
Dalder is barkeeper and owner of the SwampGold Inn and Tavern, the largest establishment in Highburn. He also acts as the town's mayor, treasurer, political advocate, and fishing expert, whenever one of those roles is needed. He is a short, round man, with an inviting face, close-cropped gray hair, and keen eyes. He's been the barkeeper at SwampGold for fifty years, and untl recently had no intention of ever leaving that position.
Dalder acts freindly enough and welcomes strangers with open arms, but he has a businessman's mind, and his thoughts are always on money. His natural leadership abilities have made him the townsfolks' unofficial leader, and he does indeed have a very calming voice and demeanor, but deep down he's in it for his own success. If the town hadn't had such a booming mining industry when he first started his business, he would have moved elsewhere.
Dalder acts freindly enough and welcomes strangers with open arms, but he has a businessman's mind, and his thoughts are always on money. His natural leadership abilities have made him the townsfolks' unofficial leader, and he does indeed have a very calming voice and demeanor, but deep down he's in it for his own success. If the town hadn't had such a booming mining industry when he first started his business, he would have moved elsewhere.
Shilas is a local hunter and expert tracker, as well as a guide. He, along with his brother Binde, led many a rich thrill-seeker into the lower reaches of the Mountains in Highburn's hayday, when travellers actually came to the town. Nowadays he and Binde make a mediocre living off of furs, which they sell in Fallton every year, along with doing odd jobs for the townsfolk and the loggers.
Shilas is 47 now, and reaching his expiration date as far as dangerous trecks into the wilderness are concerned. His scruffy brown hair and wide, hollow eyes can often be seen at the SwampGold tavern, handing out useful advice and tips, while the daily beer on the house he get's from Dalder in exchange for the moose head above the fireplace wets his lips and beard. He used to be a very wild, boisterous man, but has since mellowed out.
Shilas is 47 now, and reaching his expiration date as far as dangerous trecks into the wilderness are concerned. His scruffy brown hair and wide, hollow eyes can often be seen at the SwampGold tavern, handing out useful advice and tips, while the daily beer on the house he get's from Dalder in exchange for the moose head above the fireplace wets his lips and beard. He used to be a very wild, boisterous man, but has since mellowed out.
Griger and his goons are a group of loggers that frequent the taverns in town, starting fights, shouting a lot, and causing general mayhem and conflict. They're an obnoxious bunch, acting like they own the town. The sad truth is that the kind of do. Without the logging, Highbrun would have nothing to stand on. Still, they've let it get to their heads, and it's more than a little annoying.
Griger himself is a tall, burly man with massive arms and a barrel chest, as are most of his gang. He's the tallest of them, standing at nearly six and a half feet, with a thick beard and curly brown hair. He enjoys drinking, women, and power, and gets all of them fairly easily. The only person in town that's above him in the hierarchy is Dalder Morris, but that's just because Morris supplies the beer.
Griger himself is a tall, burly man with massive arms and a barrel chest, as are most of his gang. He's the tallest of them, standing at nearly six and a half feet, with a thick beard and curly brown hair. He enjoys drinking, women, and power, and gets all of them fairly easily. The only person in town that's above him in the hierarchy is Dalder Morris, but that's just because Morris supplies the beer.
More to be added soon.
Your characters cannot use magic. There will be some magic in the RP, but in this world it is a very hidden, evil thing.
See post 127, here.
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