TESTING Applo: Code Borker of Hut 33

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#41
Hello there! I'm some internet dude.

I’ve recently been looking to drag myself back into the art world. What better way do do that, than propositioning the fine creatures of Iwaku?

First, I would like to stress my artistic scope. I do a lot of stuff - design work, digital drawings of organic and static figures, even 3D modelling and texturing! I can construct you a reference sheet, draw your avatar.

For most of you, my service will be to provide a single, full-body character drawing, in one one of two flavours:​



First, we've got the refined sketch. Exactly what it says on the tin - I'll sketch your character until it looks nice, and not longer so sketchy. This option comes in hot at 25 USD a pop, and she's yours.

But maybe you're cashed up, and you want to go a little more fancy?​



This option, as you can see, is the painted figure. It’ll set you back 60 Yankee-doodle dollary-doos, but won’t it be beautiful?

If you’re looking for other stuff – reference sheets, avatars, and 3D, for instance – we can discuss pricing together. If enough people ask me for these, I’ll be able to start pricing them objectively on my store page. I won’t gouge you for costs, so don’t be afraid to hit me with whatever drawing ideas or general creative work you need – at worst, I’ll politely refuse, and at best, I’ll go out and learn new skills to attempt something I’ve never done before.

This is what I’ll create:​


Humans!
Animals
Furries!
Robots!
Other kinds of figures!
Action shots!
Backgrounds!
Violence!
Vehicles!
Buildings!
Scenes!
Props & Objects!
Concept & sketch work!
Static profile design!
Proof reading & editing!
Logos and font work!​

This is what I won’t create:​

Smut!
Fetish art!
Outright objectionable material!​


I’m also willing to offer lowpoly character models for the same price as a painted figure . If you’re interested in a simple looping animation, I would be very keen to discussing it the idea.​



(Don’t worry, your character will be properly posed! This is just a technical example)

So! If my little store page has you interested, or you’d like to discuss the possibility of being interested, message me here; or, even better, catch me on Discord at...​

Hustle Nugs Inc.#5298

You’ll get a nearly-guaranteed same day response – just in case the loan sharks are on your ass, and you need to appease them with fine art. Take it easy!​
 
Last edited:

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#42
Hello there! I'm some internet dude.​


I’ve recently been looking to drag myself back into the art world. What better way do do that, than propositioning the fine creatures of Iwaku?





First, I would like to stress my artistic scope. I do a lot of stuff - design work, digital drawings of organic and static figures, even 3D modelling and texturing! I can construct you a reference sheet, draw your avatar.

For most of you, my service will be to provide a single, full-body character drawing, in one one of two flavours:






First, we've got the refined sketch. Exactly what it says on the tin - I'll sketch your character until it looks nice, and not longer so sketchy. This option comes in hot at 25 USD a pop, and she's yours.






But maybe you're cashed up, and you want to go a little more fancy?










This option, as you can see, is the painted figure. It’ll set you back 60 Yankee-doodle dollary-doos, but won’t it be beautiful?






If you’re looking for other stuff – reference sheets, avatars, and 3D, for instance – we can discuss pricing together. If enough people ask me for these, I’ll be able to start pricing them objectively on my store page. I won’t gouge you for costs, so don’t be afraid to hit me with whatever drawing ideas or general creative work you need – at worst, I’ll politely refuse, and at best, I’ll go out and learn new skills to attempt something I’ve never done before.




This is what I’ll create:


Humans!
Animals
Furries!
Robots!
Other kinds of figures!
Action shots!
Backgrounds!
Violence!
Vehicles!
Buildings!
Scenes!
Props & Objects!
Concept & sketch work!
Static profile design!
Proof reading & editing!
Logos and font work!



This is what I won’t create:


Smut!
Fetish art!
Outright objectionable material!​





I’m also willing to offer lowpoly character models for the same price as a painted figure . If you’re interested in a simple looping animation, I would be very keen to discussing it the idea.







(Don’t worry, your character will be properly posed! This is just a technical example)








So! If my little store page has you interested, or you’d like to discuss the possibility of being interested, message me here; or, even better, catch me on Discord at...

Hustle Nugs Inc.#5298

You’ll get a nearly-guaranteed same day response – just in case the loan sharks are on your ass, and you need to appease them with fine art. Take it easy!
 

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#43


 

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#44
 

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#45

  
As she got out of Sean’s car to follow Leah to the jeep, Sarah dumped the Canadians GPS onto his lap through the permanently open window.

“The address is set. It should take you to my building pretty much. See you two there.”

As she turned to make her way to the jeep, Sarah was glad Sean had offered his Sat Nav so readily. She had lived in Philadelphia for a while now but she still struggled to navigate it. The streets all looked fairly similar to each other. Whenever she went off her beaten paths to work and the like, Sarah nearly always used her phone to navigate for her. It would be nice to just sit back and maybe gawk at what was going on rather than relaying instructions from her phone.

“They’ve got the directions so stick close to them”. The car door banged behind Sarah and after moment of blind reaching she found the seat belt and clicked it into place. “Allons-y.”

The journey to Sarah’s apartment was ordinary enough. The end of days was doing wonders for inner-city congestion. People stared at them as they drove past but Sarah didn’t think a great deal of it. It was likely they were only paying attention out of reflex. Most of the cars that were on the roads these days were the army or the police speeding to some new crisis, and therefore worthy of attention. As they rolled up to the front of Sarah’s building however the mood seemed to change. The was a weird chanting emanating from her building that definitely hadn't been there when she had left this morning.

“I swear to god if those hot yoga freaks have moved in below me again I won’t be held responsible for my actions.” Her words were filled with false bravado. Given what she knew to be going on in the world, ominous chanting couldn't possibly anything but bad news. Still Sarah wasn’t one to give up on everything she owned and run away with her tail between her legs.

“I’ll go first,” After shutting the door far more softly than she had when she had got in, Sarah continued. “I’d hate to give poor old Cyril a heart attack by having you lot bursting in.”

After creeping forwards to the other car and whispering the plan, such as it was to Sean and Stanley, Sarah inched towards the entrance of her building. The heavy wood doors were slightly ajar, but that wasn’t decidedly unusual especially in weather like this. Slipping into the foyer, Sarah blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the relative gloom and then had a look around.

The doorman, Cyril wasn’t behind his desk, but then he was also the building custodian. It could just be he was off taking care of some cleaning or other task that needed doing. Leaning over the man’s desk Sarah wrinkled her nose at the conspicuous lack of takeaway bags. Apparently a thirty minutes or less guarantee meant nothing these days.

With nothing else apparently going on in the lobby, Sarah pushed the button to call the lift. She could still hear the chanting she had heard in the street, but she couldn't tell if it was any louder than it had been before. While she waited for the lift, Sarah made her way back to the doorway. Sticking her head through the threshold, she waved the other in from their cars. If they were going to be quick about their task, it would help if they weren't all sitting on their backsides.​

  
 

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#46

Name: Rán​

Race: Aasimar​

Sex/Gender: Female​

Age: 26​

Appearance: Standing at five feet, ten inches tall with pale skin and well defined muscles, Rán cuts a somewhat imposing figure. Her hair hangs down to just below her shoulders and generally has at least one if not more braids in it. At first glance Rán would appear to have jet black hair though those looking closely might notice lighter patches where her natural colour is starting to show. Clothes wise, Rán favours practical hard-wearing clothes that can survive the daily rigors of ship life.​

Art Credit: critical role: Yasha by atutcha

Role: Striker​

Strengths:
Water Baby: Years of experience of diving to harvest oysters from the sea floor mean that Rán is quite comfortable both in and under water. She is a keen swimmer and diving beneath the surface while no longer some she has chance to do frequently, is practically second nature to her.​

Quite good at throwing things: Through plying her trade as a striker Rán has had occasion to throw harpoons at whales, sharks and really anything big and valuable the ocean has to offer. As such she had developed quite the throwing arm and fairly decent aim. Betting against her in a game of horseshoes would be a mistake.​

Welcome to the gun show: Years of regular swimming and general life on the ocean waves have given Rán a muscular physique a professional strong man could be proud off. When sheer brute strength is required, Rán can bring it in spades​

Weaknesses:
Does Not sleep well: Rán is not a good person to share a room with if you want a restful nights sleep. Nightmares that have haunted her for most of her life often will often wake her multiple times a night or have her scream in her sleep. It is a rare event to see a bright eyed and well rested Rán instead of a sleep deprived one.​

Functionally Illiterate: Between being a future bed slave and becoming a striker, good honest education never got much of a look in on Rán’s life. Her ability to read is based more on recognising the shape certain words and knowing their meaning rather than being able to comprehend a written message. Anything more complicated than the simplest of messages generally needs to read and explained to her. And writing, well the closest Rán gets to writing is making a cross at the bottom of contracts she has signed.​

Hayfever: For as long as she can remember, Rán has struggled with hayfever. While not literally debilitating, Rán’s life is certainly a lot more trying when there is pollen about.​

Strong odour: Unfortunately the liquid that Rán uses to dye her hair has a rather strong and unpleasant odour that tends to hang around for a week or two. For those not use to the smell being in close quarters with Rán for the first time can be quite an unpleasant experience. Also, it doesn't exactly help her keep a low profile.​

Marked: The small of Rán’s back still bares the brand of her former master and marks her out as an escaped slave. To certain kinds of bastard, this makes her more valuable a target as they imagine the reward the might collect for returning Rán to her owner.​

Biography
While many in Oshanlenor and other parts of the world would consider being of aasimar blood a curse, Rán owes her very existence to it. Her mother, Ursi, was a pleasure slave on a vast estate in Keelibral. Had she been of any other blood, her master would have likely forced her to end the pregnancy. However, in an ugly and perverted twist of fortune, he, still remembered how much he had paid for one aasimar and considered the prospect of a child as a welcome recouping of his investment.​

In those early years, Ursi was only a fleeting visitor in Ráns life, kept busy night and day by her duties in the masters house. Time for the pair to be together was scarce, and what few spare moments they did have together would often be spent watching the ships that sailed in and out from the nearby Mirgho’s Harbour. As each ship passed, mother and daughter would tell each other stories about where the it had come from and what it carried. By the time Rán turned seven her childhood was over and she was marked with the brand of her owner and put to work. The fact that she was assigned to help the domestic slaves who tended to the master’s house alongside her mother was no coincidence. One night after he was done with Ursi, her master, in what he considered an act of supreme kindness, had told Ursi that she should begin to prepare Rán for the particular nature of her role soon. Not wanting her daughter to suffer everything she had to, Ursi knew they had to escape.​

The plan she came up with was ambitious to say the least. One night, Ursi slipped from her master’s bed and made her way back to the slave quarters where Rán was as usual. This time, however, instead of climbing under the thin blanket with her daughter, she used it to create a bundle of as much food and drink as she could carry. Just as dawn began to inch across the sky, the pair crept their way towards the small private jetty where the master kept his collection of leisure craft. With Rán stashed behind some shrubbery, Ursi approached the guard and began to use everything she had been forced to learn as a bed slave to seduce him. Rather taken with the attention of his employer’s exotic bed slave, the guard was quite easily persuaded to abandon his post in favour of what would turn out to be a fatal rendezvous. It was only a couple of minuets before she scurried back along the jetty, grabbed Rán and practically dragged her to a small dingy where the guard now lay with blue lips and a rope coiled around his throat. With no sailing experience and only a plan to follow one of the passing ships to a new land, the pair cast off from the jetty and slipped away into the early morning gloom.​

The plan, of course, didn’t work. After a week at sea, the mother and child had nearly run out of food and water and had lost sight of the ship they had been following. By rights both should have died aboard that dingy. But they didn’t. Perhaps Hisani did smile on the aasimar after all. After two weeks at sea, the half dead pair were picked up by a merchant vessel. It didn’t take their rescuers long to work out these marooned aasimar were escaped slaves. There were those amongst the crew agitated to return the pair for the reward that would surely have been offered. The ship’s owner, however, was an unusually soft hearted man, who took pity on the pair’s plight. He offered Ursi and Rán safe passage Farenthaes and promised to find them positions in his aunt’s fishery enterprise.​

The jobs their rescuer secured for the pair were far from easy. Ursi assisted in the gutting and preserving of fish, while Rán, still being too small for much else was assigned to help the small fleet of pearl fishers. Initially, she merely helped with carrying and sorting the collected oysters but as she grew older Rán started helping on the boats while they were away at sea. Soon after her eleventh winter she had progressed to being trained to dive down to the sea bed to collect the oysters. She took to this last role almost as if nature had intended it for her and. While many of the people in the small fishing village had plenty of prejudice against aasimar, they were grudgingly forced to admit the girl had talent. Desperate to impress, Rán threw herself into diving and over following years, striving to go ever deeper, driven on by nightmares of being sent back to the estate if she wasn’t worthy enough. As she developed some small reputation for being useful she also started to be taken on excursions to hunt larger prey such as turtle, sharks and whales.​

By the time Rán turned eighteen life was very much different to how it had been ten years before. Ursi had married one of the few locals who didn’t have a problem with an aasimar. Rán’s new step father owned his own business and while not rich, he was wealthy enough for Ursi to be able to give up her job. Rán still adored her mother, but she no longer felt that the pair needed each other as they at once had and she had started feeling restless. Never having forgotten the stories her mother had once regaled her with, or the wonder she had felt when she had first stepped ashore in a new land, Rán found herself drawn to the idea of sailing the oceans of the world.​

Ursi wasn’t thrilled that her only child wanted to leave just as she felt their lives had finally become something worth living. However, she also wanted her Rán to have the freedom to do as she wished that being a bed slave had denied her. And so it was, with a kiss and several clay pots of vile liquid that stained her hair black, that Rán walked up the gangplank of a visiting whaling ship. After that initial voyage Rán flitted by between ships, finding pay wherever she could as a striker. She wasn’t overly concerned about whether the crews she joined where legitimate sailors or pirates. A lifetime of being at best, looked down on and disparaged had left Rán somewhat disconnected from what society felt was acceptable. The only ships she wouldn't sail on where those she knew or discovered dealt in selling slaves.​

Rán found herself back on Oshanlenor quite by accident when her last ship was struck by lightning and limped into port for repairs. Hiding below deck while the captain organized repairs, Rán drank and then drank some more. The idea to burn down the estate she had escaped from came to her in this moment as a way to shake off the nightmares she had suffered since that fateful night, nightmares of being dragged back there. Fortunately, she sobered up before getting anywhere near her target. Spooked by the thoughts of what could have happened and with her current ship going nowhere fast, Rán started looking for a new crew to get her off Oshanlenor.​

When she saw the poster calling for a crew and offering gold and treasure, well it was a lead that she couldn’t ignore.​

Hex colour: #4B1​
 
Last edited:

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#47
Hellp
 
Last edited:

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#48
Name: Inga​

Age: Twenty-Six

Gender: Female​

Race: Loga​

Occupation: Consummate Bitch Traveler​

Basic Appearance
The fact that Inga stands at a lean and lithe five foot, eight inches tall isn’t what most people first notice about her. Nor is it the dark brown hair the hangs down to the small of her back, the jet black eyes or even the pale crimson skin. No, what people who don’t hail from the Isles of Naumuldr first notice about Inga, as with pretty much any other Loga, are the horns.​

Inga’s horns extend the better part of a foot backwards perpendicular to her body from the middle of her temples, twisting a couple of times along the length before flicking up to a point at the end. The second thing most people notice is the thin dexterous tail. Normally Inga's tail will be coiled against her back, tucked under her hair, but when the situation calls for it she can use it like a weak third arm.​

Clothing wise Inga has a taste for the stylish and decadent if she has the option though most of the time she wears the simple and hard wearing clothes of a traveler. Around her neck she wears a slight chain with a small, silver, clapper-less bell acting as a pendent.​

Magical Abilities

Dark Energy
Magic courses through Inga's veins and through it she can generate some sort other worldly energy that jumps and leaps from her body in greenish-yellow arcs like horribly corrupted lightning.
  • Abominable Blast - Inga can loose bolts of dark energy from her hands to strike at her foes. when released they will arc through the air until they hit something or harmlessly dissipate once they get to far from Inga. When it hits a target it acts much in the smae way a bolt of lighting would, scorching and burning it. Metal will dissipate some of the energy and stone will take minimal damage from it
  • Unnatural Armour - As well as striking at her foes with her magicks, she can also let them wrap around her forming an improvised armour. It isn’t impenetrable but anything that gets through will have to take a lot of punishment.
  • Frightful Wings - With enough energy and concentration Inga can use her magicks to slip the surly bonds of gravity. It’s not true flying and it takes a lot of energy to keep up for a prolonged amount of time, but it is a lot of fun.
Witchcraft
In her journeys since coming to the mainland Inga has formed a mysterious pact with an unknown patron. In return for discovering what is prematurely causing Ragnarok as well as regularly paying homage with blood sacrifice to them, Inga will gain little of their power.
  • Eerie Darkness - Inga can create pockets of impenetrable darkness that almost seem to pour from her eyes. No natural light can pass through these pockets though she can see through it as normal.
  • Terrible Visions - Pain and fear aren't the only ways to dominate a being. With a simple curse Inga can plant images in the minds of others. This works best on weakened or unsuspecting victims and the hard of thinking.
  • Hellish Fire - Fire is practically the physical embodiment of raw unadulterated power able to terrify man and beast alike. Although it takes more out of her then using her own dark energies, Inga can briefly call forth torrents of flame.
Skills
Quick Hands - With nothing that was really her own and plenty of things that she wanted, Inga has learnt how to pocket things without being notice.

Dexterous Tail - Inga tail is thin, dexterous and able to grip and lift small objects like a goblet or perhaps a dagger.

Intimidating - While she might be slightly built, the horns and tail help to make Inga appear more intimidating. The fact that she can call forth elemental energy at will and has zero compunction about using it also helps.

Personality
Self centered, easily bored, lustful for power and with a vicious streak a mile wide, Inga isn’t always the easiest person to get along with. When anything falls outside of her personal interests she will generally dismiss it as irrelevant and unimportant. If she is pressured into doing something against her will, Inga will generally put the absolute minimum amount of effort in to get the task done and will take any shortcuts she can. When it comes to fighting, the only things that she will really think about is whether or not she think that she will be on the winning side once the dust has settled. Other than that, she has almost no scruples about inflicting violence and pain on others.​

Biography
A foundling, Inga was raised as a ward of the community who would theoretically look after her interests. What this actually meant was that she was given food that many would consider pig swill and a place to sleep only marginally warmer and drier than the street. Aside from that, Inga was largely left to fend for herself. It was there, in the gutter she learnt how the world worked and that power, any power was good. As it would turn out, her blood positively hummed with it and power will always find away to show itself.​

Inga knew about magic and witchcraft well enough but had no idea that she could harness such power until well into her tenth year. The incident that first released the power in her blood was almost insignificant. A stone thrown at her by some moronic meathead as had happened numerous times was all it took, but then sometimes a single stone can cause a rock slide. As the pebble bounced to the floor it’s thrower suddenly found themselves flying through the air as bolts of dark energy slammed into them. It took a moment for bystanders to realise what was happening but when they did, they saw the foundling girl they had all ignored wreathed in tendrils of other wordly energy. It didn’t take long for Inga to be subdued, but by then it was too late. She had seen the fear in peoples eyes when they looked at her and it had felt good.​

After that those directly responsible for Inga took a greater interest in her. To avoid a repeat of the incident as they called it they found tutors to help Inga learn to control her magic. Inga was quite happy with this state of affairs and played the role of the diligent student enthusiastically as her powers blossomed and grew. Eventually however, all good things come to an end and by the time she turned twenty-two it seemed there was no one left in the Isles who could or would teach her anything further. Additionally, people were beginning to push Inga to take on some sort of role in society, perhaps on board a raiding ship given her talents. This was some Inga had absolutely no interest in but it did give her an idea.​

She had apparently gone as far as she could staying in the Isles so maybe it was time to travel to the mainland and see what she could learn there. The next time a merchant ship came to port, Inga secured passage on it through a mixture of bribery and threats. Since landing in Hestr Inga has spent the intervening years wandering the lands of Arbros. She hasn’t learnt a huge amount, but she has had a lot of fun. And then she met her patron and the dreams began.​

Miscellaneous:
Colour: #070

The Artist is Bendix.
 
Last edited:

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#49
Somewhere in the Verda Forest.

  The Verda forest was a quiet place although if one stopped and listened, the small, commonplace, unobtrusive noise of life going about its business was always there in the background. That being said however, today an increasing swathe of the forest was falling deathly silent as if the forest as a whole was holding its breath. The only sound to be heard aside from the wind blowing through the trees was an occasional strange crack quickly followed by the sound of breaking wood.

Gingerly, Inga untangled the remaining thorny branches from her horns before venting her increasing frustration by launching another bolt of energy at a nearby tree. A thin smile briefly played across her lips as she watched her target collapsed to the floor. Thin streams of smoke trailing from the point where her magicks had found their mark. Good. Inga was sick and tired of this fucking forest. She wished she had taken the longer route around the edge rather than trying to push through the middle of this dank, overgrown shithole. It would have probably been quicker, easier to navigate, and she could have taken a horse or hitched a ride on some cart and arrived in some style. Instead, she’d arrive later than she had hoped and looking exactly like she had been dragged through a hedge. If she had missed her quarry because of coming this way then she was going to find the fool who told her this route would be quicker and make sure they really learnt just how wrong they were. This stupid forest didn’t even have anything decent to offer as a blood tribute for god-sakes.​

Several hours and a score more felled trees later, Inga still hadn't seen any evidence that she was reaching the edge of the forest. She had no idea where she was, if she was going in the right direction and thanks to the sun often being hidden by the thick canopy, what time it was. All in all, she had had enough. Dropping her pack to the ground, Inga stomped around gathering all the fallen wood she could see before dumping it in a pile. She didn’t bother trying to give her fire any structure, there was no point. It would burn, she had no doubts about that. After dragging a branch to sit on close enough to the fruit of her efforts, Inga fetched a stick of her jerky from her bag with one handed while the palm of the other pointed at the pile of wood.​

When the torrent of flames died away a fire danced merrily in front of the Loga, the warmth radiating off it taking the edge out of the day’s chill. Quite a lot of the forest floor behind fire was also smoldering or on fire but Inga didn’t give a shit. Taking a bite jerky, she contemplated her next move, jet black eyes fixed on the heart of the fire.​

  
 

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#50

Bio Info Personal Items Skills and Spells


  • Name
    Sylva.

    Age
    Twenty-Three.

    Gender
    Female.

    Race
    Imperial (probably).

    Appearance
    If someone had to describe Sylva in one word that word would almost certainly be scruffy. Her shoulder length hair is untidy cut and will often have mud or other detritus caked into it while her bluey-green eyes are normally surrounded by the dirt and grime. On the whole her face is somewhat sharp and angular and this combined with small tight lips to give Sylva a naturally disapproving expression. Standing at just over five foot tall she has a small wiry frame with narrow shoulders and hips and only slight muscles.

    Clothes wise, Sylva favours simple and practical garb in muted, unflashy colours; often greys and dark green, that help the wearer sink into the background rather than making them stand out. Generally her clothes are in varying states of disrepair, depending on when she acquired them.

    Personality
    Life on the streets has stripped much of the softness away from Sylva replaced it with bountiful amounts of cynicism, mistrusts and self reliance that combine to make her cold and calculating. She isn’t one for making friends. She makes allies, allies that will be discarded once they are no longer of value to her or once the cost of keeping faith with them becomes more than she is willing to pay.

    That being said this cold heartedness isn't always apparent to those who don’t know her. Sylva understands the value of appearances and has a personality for every occasion. Scared little girl, loyal companion, besotted lover or even bloodthirsty psychopath, Sylva will wear whatever mask best advances her agenda at any given moment.

    History
    Sylva was the product of an intense and brief love affair. Very brief. Her mother never saw the man again after that night. Sylva’s grandparents disowned their daughter when the pregnancy started to show and forced her from the family home. Pregnant, alone and homeless Sylva’s mother made her way to Anvil hoping the city would provide a niche for her and her unborn child. It did. Unfortunately though it was not a nice niche. With precious little coin to her name name mum had to rent a squalid room above a shop in the city docks. Work was even harder to find. No respectable business wanted to hire her and she was reduced to doing a whole range of unsavory jobs for a pittance. Sylva’s earliest memory is of hunger and waiting all day for her mother to come home with a few scraps of food that cost most of what she’d earned that day.

    Sylva fell into to crime simply enough. Hunger would drive her to try and steal food whenever she saw it. At first it was just the leftovers on tables in taverns but before long she was swiping loaves of bread and wheels of cheese. She was often caught in these early years but shopkeepers and tavern staff when faced with a small, dirty, painfully thin tearful little girl tended to relent. One or two would clip her along the ear and take back their products; many would let the girl go, feeling charitable as they did so. What this did for Sylva, however, was act as an education of how not to get caught.

    By the time she was eleven, some of the city's criminal element had started to take notice of the budding young thief. A Khajiit street gang took Sylva under their wing and it proved a profitable relationship for both parties. She was able to move about the city far more freely than any of the members of the gang and act as a scout and a lookout. In return they taught her the finer arts of lock picking and pick pocketing. This arrangement worked for the better part of ten years as Sylva sunk further into Skyrim criminal underworld and the gang become bolder and more ambitious in its targets. Eventually, they got too ambitious.

    An attempt to rob a house in the Guildgate district they thought was empty went badly wrong. Instead of finding an empty house ripe for the picking, what Sylva and her associates found was a squad of well armed guards who were ready for a scrap. It turned out the merchant that owned the house had hired several retired city guardsmen to watch the house in his absence. Some of the gang tried fighting their way out only to fall to the guards blades. Sylva was smart to realize the game was up and with a choice between imprisonment and dying chose the former option.

    Strengths
    Light Fingered: A lifetime's worth of practice means that unless someone is really sharp, then Sylva can be quite a long away away before they notice how much their purse has lightened.

    Stealthy: Be it the city guard, irate citizens or other street dwellers, for Sylva there are plenty of people by whom it is better not to be seen and so she’s learnt to make sure she isn't.

    Lands on her feet: A strong sense of balance and good coordination make Tamsyn quite acrobatic. She doesn’t get knocked down easily and often springs up quickly if she does.

    Weaknesses
    Small: Years of going hungry severely stunted Sylva’s growth and development. As a result she is not physically very strong and is a good deal more delicate than the average person.

    Barely educated: Education never really figured much in Sylva’s life. She has some limited mathematical ability but reading and writing are subjects largely outside her wheelhouse.

    Totally untrained: Sylva has had no training or real experience with using weapons. She understands the basics of how to use a sword or knife; namely to put the sharp bit in her enemies but that's it. She’s never actually used a weapon in anger.


  • Personal Equipment
    A ragged cloth shirt with matching trousers and the same fabric wrapped around her feet. A wooden bowl. A shiv.

    Wealth and Resources:
    Between Sylva and her mother they could probably scrape up a few septims but that's it. If they had had money Sylva wouldn’t have fallen into a life of crime... probably.

  • Combat Skills
    Sylva only real experience of combat is brawling in the gutter with other street rats. She has yet to actually draw blood with a blood with a blade. She prefers to use stealth than get in an open fight.

    Magic Skills
    If she has any magical ability then Sylva doesn't know about it.

    Social Skills
    As well as the physical skills one might learn as a thief, Sylva is quite the little actor. She will change her personality to whatever best advances her own goals at a moments notice. Additionally she is quite good at bartering because fences have a tendency to try and underpay for everything.
 

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#51
Name: Reva
Race: Fallen Aasimar
Class: Monk
Alignment: Chaotic Good

Personality Traits
Wanderer: There’s a big world out there and Reva tends to get itchy feet if she stays in one place too long.
Driven: Nothing ever changes if you only talk about doing something. You have to act.
Determined: When she sets her mind to doing something, she’ll keep on going no matter how tough things get.


Ideals
Loyal: The people she calls friends can pretty much always rely on her support.
Chain-breaker: Hates those who put their boot on the neck of others.
Adaptable: All things change in time, that’s just something that has to be accepted.


Flaws:
Boozehound: Has a taste for booze and isn’t good at knowing when to stop.
Short fuse: Resorts to violence to deal with problems far too quickly.
What do you mean, empty your pockets?: Has a penchant for pocketing coins and small knick-knacks if she thinks she can get away with it.


Age: Twenty-Seven.
Height: 5 foot, 9 inches.
Weight: 138 lbs.
Eyes: Green.
Skin: Fair.
Hair: Auburn.

Character Appearance: Reva has a lean, well muscled body that is littered with a multitude of scars. Her hands and feet are both heavily calloused and more than a few of her fingers and toes sit at strange angles. Likewise her nose has clearly been broken and set multiple times and this has the effect of making her pale green eyes look a little uneven.

Clothes wise Reva appears to favour light garments that offer minimal protection but plenty of room to move easily. Her arms are wrapped in leather strips with her wrist being particularly well wrapped and small, thin leather pads covering her elbows. Reva’s legs sport similar wrapping but these are covered by a pair of thin, flat soled fabric boots.

Art: The original artwork was created by Andy Park.

Colour: #070
 
Last edited:

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#52



  


Age: Twenty-Seven

  


Age: Twenty-Five

Tamsyn’s oldest sibling and best friend. Liola and Tamsyn’s close bond was formed in their early years when their parents affection was scarcely ever felt. This combined with the fact Liola looks remarkably like her old sister means that when the pair are together it is not uncommon for strangers to assume they are twins. Generally Liola is the more cool headed of the two, providing an often needed counterbalance to Tamsyn and is a steadying presence in her sister’s life.​


  


Age: Twenty-Three

The third daughter of House Grimm, Catelynn is the odd member out of the house. She is by far and away the most traditional, lady like member of the family. Where the other Grimm daughters scoffed at or ignored the lessons of the castle Septa, Catelynn was a diligent student. She has never shared the same relationship with Tamsyn that Liola does and tends to speak more bluntly when she disagrees with Tamsyn.


  



Age: Nineteen

The eldest daughter of Nicholas Grimm’s second wife and the first of what are technically Tamsyn’s half-sisters. Headstrong, self-assured and lacking respect for authority, Astrid would be quite a pain in Tamsyn’s side if she wasn’t also endearingly entertaining. Fond of mostly harmless tricks and jokes, Astrid is normally involved in some form of mischief. It also helps that Tamsyn can see a lot of her younger self in her sister. Perhaps it comes of being the eldest of a mothers daughters.​


  



Age: Fifteen

Talia is perhaps the leading intellectual light of house Grimm. Even though she is more than a decade younger than her eldest sister, Talia history of making astute observations and predictions means that if she offers an opinion it is often listened to. For the most part she resides the quiet sanctuary of the Maesters Library and is often a keen student and assistant for the man. Talia also has a habit of collecting small pets, lizards and insects and the like.​


  



Age: Eleven

The wild child of house Grimm, Olenna is most often to be found with dirt on her face, a glint in her eye and Astrid somewhere in the near vicinity. There probably isn’t an inch of Greyshield that Olenna hasn’t explored or a tree she hasn’t climbed and she is just a likely to playing some game with some of the castles serving boys as attending to her studies.​


  



Age: Seven

Mira is a shy and quiet creature in a house full or large and loud personalities. Most of the time she will be found with Liola or Catelynn, or on the periphery of whatever is going on, watching and listening from afar.​



  



Age: Five

The youngest Grimm is a bit of an unknown. The baby of the family she will normally be found lurking behind one of the elder Grimm sisters legs watching the world go past. It is suspected that she has started to dip her toes into the exciting world of larceny.​


  


Credits
Name Font: Distant Strokes: Distant Stroke Font Download
House Word Font: Blacksword: Blacksword Font Download
 
Last edited:

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#53




 
Last edited:

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#54
Name: Tamsyn Grimm

Age: Twenty-four

Affiliation: Her, Herself and She

Appearance: Tamsyn stands at five foot, ten inches tall and and 140lb with the lean muscular body of a sailor. She has dark blue eyes, fair skin with freckles brought out by the sun and her red hair reaches the middle of her back, though it is normally wound into a tight plait.

Profession: A Smuggler selling untaxed or illegal cargo between Essos and Westeros.

Equipment: A Recurve Hunting Bow, A Steel Dirk, A 27 ft sloop called ‘The Eel’

Skills: Archery and Sailing

Biography: The Story of Tamsyn Grimm began near Winterfell's outer wall just after the fall of the Night King. It was here that Nicholas Grimm, heir of Greyshield, became rather taken with Thora, a pretty wildling girl, and in the atmosphere of heady joy and jubilation that fallen over the city the pair were soon united in celebrating life's pleasures. Parties however, always come to an end and after several hazy days Nicholas Grimm awoke in a tent he did not recognise with a sore head, a turning stomach and a wildling spear pressed to his neck. It transpired that the young Nicholas Grimm’s companion was in fact the daughter of one of the freshly appointed lords of the New Gift and he was somewhat less than pleased to find a naked kneeler half spread across his daughter.

Despite Thora’s protest and Nicholas's offers of gold and other gift, the chieftain was all set to kill his daughter's defiler when Nicholas out of desperation tried to cow the savage by declaring himself as a Lord of the Reach. The words had an almost magical transformative effect on the man thought not quite the one Nicholas had hoped for. The Chieftain made the Lord Grimm an offer; either he married Thora like a lord in a Sept of the seven or he married her by the customs of the Free Folk. After a brief explanation from Thora, Nicholas Grimm chose the former and the two were wed in the Winterfell sept later that day before being ushered to a less than private tent. By the time the Lord and new Lady Grimm reached Greyshield Thora was heavy with child and before the fourth moon-turn had passed she birthed twins, Gerren and Tamsyn.

For the next fourteen years the Grimm household fell into pattern all too common in noble houses throughout Westeros. Nicholas split the majority of his energies between the affairs of Greyshield and raising his son to be a true Westorosi lord, perhaps more so than normal to spite his son’s blood, and left his daughter's education largely to the castle Septa and his wife, a decision he would later come to regret. While the Septa tried to educate Tamsyn in the manner of a noble lady , Thora saw this education as soft and weak and took it upon herself to teach her daughter more practical things such as how to shoot a bow, how to hunt, how to fight and how to survive. In short the lesson of the Free Folk.

One of the few areas where Lord Grimm did take an interest in his daughters education was when it came to how to sail. With the memory of the Ironborn invasion he was determined that none of his family be trapped on Greyshield for lack of loyal subjects to sail them. Tamsyn loved these lessons, the feeling of the wind in her hair and spray splashing her face called to something in her. When she was at sea she felt like the birds that flew so freely wherever they choose.

Soon after the twins fourteenth name day Gerren was sent to Blackcrown to finally begin his training in arms. The boy was older than he should have been as Lord Grimm had had trouble persuading any of the other families of The Reach to ward his son. The lords and ladies of the other nobles house disapproved of his marriage to a wildling, even if Thora’s father was technically a lord, and saw his children almost as a lesser breed. It took a further four years for Nicholas to secure a betrothal for his daughter but when he broke the news of it to her he did not get the reaction he had expected. Tamsyn refused to go along with marriage, partly because she had fallen in love and been having a secret relationship with Rolan, a fisherman's son, and partly because the family with whom her father had arranged the marriage with were barely more the shit stained pig herders to her mind.

After a month of arguments with her father not backing down Tamsyn decided to take her fate into her own hands as generations of her ancestors had. One night, once most of the castle was asleep Tamsyn donned some of her brothers more worn out clothes, left a letter for her parents in her bedchamber and snuck out to meet Rolan at the docks before boarding a ship heading south. From then on the pair traveled from port to port, staying in one place only as long as their coin lasted before signing on to a crew for a new journey. The confines of sea travel meant that Tamsyn's attempts to pass as a man were often seen through but rarely before she had had chances to prove her worth as a sailor. While most captains were irritated at having been deceived none could deny the girls usefulness as a deckhand.

Tamsyn’s first foray into smuggling began innocuously enough whilst crewing aboard The Walrus, a ship working the trade route between White Harbor and Bravos. The captain offered Tamsyn a week's extra coin if she would row a package ashore for him and deliver it to his agent, explaining that the man who should have done it was sick. Tamsyn jumped at the chance for extra coin and happily took the package ashore. She knew what she was doing, smugglers had been one of the problems that had vexed her father greatly but Tamsyn decided to feign ignorance of it for a while, only confronting the captain when he asked her and Roland to sign on as deck hands again and using it to leverage better pay from the man. Despite Rolan’s reservation, this was the last time the couple signed onto a new ship. For a couple of years they sailed with the same crew making little deliveries to anyone who had coin for what they had.

While this was a happy time for Tamsyn her relationship with Roland was beginning to fracture. The love that had once burned so fiercely now cooled and the couple argued more and more. After a night of drinking in a King’s Landing tavern a particularly vicious argument erupted that resulted in Rolan hitting Tamsyn. Generations of wildling and noble blood boiled and she struck him back and the ensuing fight ended with Rolan him lying at the bottom of a flight of stairs with a neck that was visibly broken. Realising what she’d done Tamsyn fled through the city streets fighting back tears as made for the safety of The Walrus. Not much fuss was made when Rolan wasn’t aboard by the time The Walrus left port the next day but for Tamsyn everything felt wrong. Her life before had been an adventure but now she was just reminded of everything she had lost and began to increasingly feel like she’d made a mistake leaving Greyshield. Roland had been a little piece of home and without him she felt lost. Part of her desperately wanted to go back to Greyshield but she was too scared of how her father might react to her presence. Instead she stayed with The Walrus feeling increasingly despondent, trapped and rudderless until the day they sailed into a sleepy Dornish port and she saw the most beautiful boat she’d ever seen.

Most sailors would have considered the sloop that had caught her eye little more than the local lord's plaything, but to her it was perfect. Big enough to be a home, her home, but small enough that she could sail it by herself if she needed to, it was a chance to start and truly seize control of her fate. Stealing the boat was easy enough, the noble family's jetties were guarded at night but all it took was a little outrageous flirting with the definite promise of more to come and one of the guard actually walked her to the boat with a spring in his step. After that it was a simple matter of hitting the lecherous fool over the head with a stick, depositing him on the jetty, hauling up the sail and sailing out of the port. By the time a ship had been readied to give chase Tamsyn had long disappeared into the night.

From then on Tamsyn pretty much sailed wherever she thought she might make some coin. Sometimes she would take on a hand but mostly she sailed by herself. The Eel, as she had dubbed her boat, was to her mind the perfect craft for a smuggler, large enough to handle rough seas, small and shallow enough that it could travel a good way further up many rivers and inlets than most boats and it was faster on the wind then any boat she’d been on before. Tamsyn often used the Step Stones as a place to sell any excess cargo she had and to resupply and as the demand for weapons grew Tamsyn was only too happy to cash in on this lucrative trade’ visiting the islands with increasing frequency.

Notes: Keeps her last name a closely guarded secret.
 

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#55
A Collaboration with

  A fae damning the gods as cruel jokesters, a human praying to them as Ragnarok strikes and a demon bitch who was arguably as cursed by the gods as Einar himself was; what a group he’d think to himself. The big man was pleased to hear that Myst and Imogen had no issues joining him once this all passed over. But of course the demon one knew just how to frustrate Einar as he’d noticed Inga’s clear insult toward the humans. The berserker stood and slowly approached the loga till he was a few steps away within the confines of the cave; not responding much as a few embers from the spell casted smacked against his skin causing small burns on his chest and shoulders. He glared down at her, the light from the now glowing stone illuminating his form; speaking in his deep tone of voice.​
“Some of us actually try to repay for the sins we’ve committed; that or spit into the faces of the gods as we deny what they expect of us. Why do you harbour such hatred for a race that was already so doomed even before this day anyway? The very same doomed race that I am cursed to keep from dying out.”
The last sentence that came from the berserker's mouth dripped with anger; his hands balling into tight fists. The berserker was truly at his limit with this loga. His respect for Imogen’s teachings had all but kept him from leaving her out in that blizzard. A little part of him even sympathized with her as well do to how hellishly cursed they both obviously were.​
“Why do people hate rats and spiders, human?” There was an odd calmness to Inga’s voice now, almost as if she was watching the whole scene from a long way off. She didn’t see the human’s anger, his clenched fists. Her eyes were fixed on the lightly glowing rock as if it was showing her something, speaking to her. “It’s because they infest the world, spreading their foulness wherever they go. The world would simply be better without them.”
Gingerly the loga slumped sideways until she was lying on the cave floor. Her body curved around the heated patch of rock. The warmth rising up from underneath her felt good. The long whip like tail fumbled blindly for a moment until it happened upon her pack. After working its way through the opening it came back out with a stick of dried meat which was effortlessly passed to a waiting hand. “You all put so much stock in the gods. Why? They don’t care for us. They idle and fret in their realms and ignore ours until they get bored and decide to bring us misery and suffering.” Now the black eyes broke their commune with the glowing rock, flicking to Myst. “Have they ever answered your prayers, Hunter?”
Initially Myst sat quietly, trying to ignore both Einar and the Loga’s bickering. Part of her wanted to watch the barbarian beat down the arrogant woman. Another part of her wanted nothing but silence to meditate. When the Loga directly insulted the Gods, one eye shot open. Her face quickly turned into a scolded. “Of course the gods care for us you arrogant she-devil. Perhaps they don’t care for your horned-kind, but for the rest of the races they watch over us more than we know.” She grumbled to herself and turned her back towards the Loga, before calling over her shoulder. “And for your information, yes. They have answered my prayers many times.”
Imogen’s attention remained on the entrance to the cave despite the bickering voices behind her. Their arguing was useless. It wouldn’t solve a thing. Fimbulvetr was but one of many signs that Ragnarok was upon them and the Loga was right; the world was dying and it had been evident for so long. Imogen was painfully aware of the signs, it was natural for her to feel the cries of the planet as her very kind was connected to Abros in a way that no other man was. But she was in denial… and her stupidity cost them whatever time they could have had in the race against the end of the world. What the Loga didn’t know though was the power behind foresight. Imogen not only saw a glimpse into the future, she felt it. And what were the idiots in the cave doing to brainstorm a solution to their almost certain death? Arguing over their little beliefs and morals.​
Sighing heavily, the Fae turned to face the group huddled in the cave. She observed as Einar postured toward the Loga and the Loga ignore him as she snaked herself around whatever heat source she had created. The human woman seemed mostly removed from the situation but didn’t let her praying stop her from spitting her own words at the Loga. The creature would need to be tamed if she was going to remain with their group, or else there would be no group at all.​
”Without spiders, our world would be overrun by bloodsucking and disease ridden pests.” Imogen’s gaze fell on the Loga, her statement was meant to parallel the banishment the God’s placed upon her species eons ago in the form of a curse and yet, she delivered it with an eerie sense of peace. ”I would suggest you keep your opinions to yourself. No one cares about them here and all you’re doing is spreading anger.”
Imogen shot a look to Einar. It was obvious the Loga was getting underneath his skin and if he couldn’t contain his anger, she would have to seal him away, which she didn’t want to do. It was degrading to her friend and not only that, a lot of her energy was being pooled into maintaining the barrier against the entrance. ”That also goes for you, Einar. We won’t get anywhere by arguing with each other. Now is not a time to spit at each other over our differences. The both of you have growing up to do.”
The Fae’s face softened following her scolding and she sat on her knees against the cold rock floor of the cave near the fractured segment that was illuminating heat. Imogen looked at the Loga, contemplating what she had mentioned earlier about a person she was looking for. If she expected the group to work together, she knew she would have to make the first move. ”My name is Imogen, a Fae, if you haven’t already gathered. If you’re hurt from earlier, I can heal you, but I am curious about what you mentioned.. About someone you were looking for. Can you tell me more about this person and why they’re important to our survival?”
Einar’s frustration towards the loga only grew. The man could even feel the curse etched upon his chest begin to stir. He couldn’t believe the curse actually viewed this demon wench as a true threat to humans. Gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes the berserker fought against the violent urges that were billowing in his heart. His body began to ache so much that he’d wrap his arms around his stomach in agonizing silence. Even the scolding words from Imogen were a comfort at this very moment.​
His hands suddenly shot up to his head as they clamped hard against his skull; taking a few steps away from the loga now. Sweat poured down his forehead as he crouched slightly. No, he refused to be a slave to this curse years ago and he had no intentions of going back on that. After a few more seconds of this struggle, the large man slowly calmed down. A mute expression coming across his face as he addressed the loga in a cold tone. “I should have left you in the cold.” After this he walked to the large gold barrier covered boulder and sat down facing it; waiting to hear when the harshed parts of this storm would calm down. “You waste your time telling her your name, Imogen. She’ll never bother to use it, trust me.”
Imogen was right, this was no time for fighting amongst themselves no matter how unbearable one measly person was. But, that didn’t mean Einar had to enjoy said individuals either.​
A toothy grin spread across Inga's mouth at Einar's last comment. The brute was more perceptive than he looked.There was also something... broken about the man. He seemed to guard the world from himself. That was curious. “There are plenty of your kind that would have thanked you for doing so human, but here we are. Perhaps though, this is fates will.” There was a pause as Inga wriggled herself a little closer to the cooling hotspot.​
“The person I seek is important, Little One, because they are the key to knowledge lost to the other realms. Ragnarok has come but… things… things aren't as they should be. Why this is is a mystery across the realms. The gods are impotent in this matter No amount of praying will change that. Fortunately though, through the eons there have been those who have watched for the turning of the ages. They preserved the knowledge the gods, in their vain arrogance forgot.” Once more black eyes landed on Myst, watching keenly for even the smallest reaction to this. “The man I seek is one of this order. I call them the Greycloaks. They pass through the world like a whisper and I’ve been hunting this one for some time. Even if he does not know what is happening, he may well know how we can find out.”
  ​
 

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#56

  Biography: The Story of Tamsyn Grimm began near Winterfell's outer wall just after the fall of the Night King. It was here that Nicholas Grimm, heir of Greyshield, became rather taken with Thora, a pretty wildling girl, and in the atmosphere of heady joy and jubilation that fallen over the city the pair were soon united in celebrating life's pleasures. Parties however, always come to an end and after several hazy days Nicholas Grimm awoke in a tent he did not recognise with a sore head, a turning stomach and a wildling spear pressed to his neck. It transpired that the young Nicholas Grimm’s companion was in fact the daughter of one of the freshly appointed lords of the New Gift and he was somewhat less than pleased to find a naked kneeler half spread across his daughter.
  

Biography:
   The Story of Tamsyn Grimm began near Winterfell's outer wall just after the fall of the Night King. It was here that Nicholas Grimm, heir of Greyshield, became rather taken with Thora, a pretty wildling girl, and in the atmosphere of heady joy and jubilation that fallen over the city the pair were soon united in celebrating life's pleasures. Parties however, always come to an end and after several hazy days Nicholas Grimm awoke in a tent he did not recognise with a sore head, a turning stomach and a wildling spear pressed to his neck. It transpired that the young Nicholas Grimm’s companion was in fact the daughter of one of the freshly appointed lords of the New Gift and he was somewhat less than pleased to find a naked kneeler half spread across his daughter.
  ​



 Biography: The Story of Tamsyn Grimm began near Winterfell's outer wall just after the fall of the Night King. It was here that Nicholas Grimm, heir of Greyshield, became rather taken with Thora, a pretty wildling girl, and in the atmosphere of heady joy and jubilation that fallen over the city the pair were soon united in celebrating life's pleasures. Parties however, always come to an end and after several hazy days Nicholas Grimm awoke in a tent he did not recognise with a sore head, a turning stomach and a wildling spear pressed to his neck. It transpired that the young Nicholas Grimm’s companion was in fact the daughter of one of the freshly appointed lords of the New Gift and he was somewhat less than pleased to find a naked kneeler half spread across his daughter. 
 

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#57



  
It has been six centuries since the Scream, a near apocalyptic event that wiped out all active Psychics and Jump Gates. The recovery period was filled with strife, adversity and struggle, but little by little humanity always manages to adapt to their new problems. Without the Jump Gates sectors remain disconnected, each their own little bubble of worlds separated by Metadimensional pathways. Elysian Omega, your sector, is facing even more strife now, on the verge of civil unrest and war. Three factions have been kind enough not to engage each other just yet, each biding their time until they are prepared for total war. United Front, the central union of once 4 systems each with a single planet had recently lost their hold on one and there are whispers of another breaking off. Al-Sahaf Combine, a triumvirate of trade planets and the psychic powerhouse of the sector insists they are merely merchants, there to profit from the needs of many. And finally Raurich Empire, exiled to the corner of the sector remains silent, though rumors speak of a massive project in the works.​

Twenty one planets total within the sector, each with its own solar system. One uninhabited due to apocalyptic conditions on the surface, one inhabited by a race of Alien Insectoids by the name of Krarrith. Many of the worlds have not recovered from the Scream and thus regressed back to the industrial age wholly relying on old and outdated technology while more successful planets cruise the sector in state of the art spaceships. Some struggle to survive, day by day, others live in excess and luxury, the sector is anything but fair and balanced. Half of the planets remain independent and separate from the three major factions.​

You are a human or one of the slightly altered (read genetically engineered/mutated) versions of a human. With preparation and careful planning the sector can be your sandbox, you can build up castles just to tear them down, but make a mistake, lower your guard or let your naivety take over and you will find yourself missing body parts or worse.​


  
Echoes without number will be a soft sci-fi set in Sector Elysian Omega, for which a map with notes will be supplied in a Lore Dump thread. The focus of the RP will be on character stories, the narrative crafted only after characters had been accepted, each will be challenged and given a chance to shine. Characters are by no means protected by fate or plot armour(unless they're a powerful precog), they are mortal as any NPC and foolish actions will result in their harm. While my original intention is to have a crew of a small lightly armed frigate go out and follow their stories the sector is filled with so many possibilities that the players can simply alter the narrative and shift their focus elsewhere, be it fighting inter-system wars, gunrunning for a crime syndicate or playing politics with the Mandarins.​

For the curious the RP is based on Stars without number RPG I GM with some friends and there is plenty of worldbuilding already finished though all is in my notebook and will take some time to port to digital form. That said there will be no rolls or dice involved here, just good old fashioned writing.​

Below are some of the systems that I feel characterize Stars without number the best and as such will be integral to the RP.​

Space travel is a dangerous trade, even the well known routes can result in total destruction of the ship and crew. To travel, one must have an installed Spike Drive on their vessel, then for each metadimensional unit of distance they will need to spend 6 days riding the metadimensional currents known as shears. Elite pilots know how to trim the course and halve the travel time by riding more unstable shears, best pilots know that a supped up Spike Drive is more reliable and can get them further in one hop.​

Communication within a system is not an issue as tightbeam(laser) tech allows for minimal latency meaning you can talk in real time with a person at the edge of the solar system, but not beyond. Inter system communication works much like it did in the age of sail. You record your message in text or video format then send it off with postage. Any ship heading towards the system downloads a bulk of these encrypted messages and then unloads them as soon as they arrive. It is near impossible to hijack a message among the bulk and even if one could identify it cracking the encryption would require immense processing power that is simply uneconomical.​

Psychics, a colloquial term for those suffering from MES- Metadimensional Extroversion Syndrome. It happened as a result of traveling through the shears, future generations started birthing children whose minds could tap into the metadimensional energies and cause certain phenomena to occur. Some levitated objects with their minds, other coerced cells to heal and body to recover while some penetrated minds and veil of fate. Generally there are six schools of psychic teachings, Biopsionics, Telekinesis, Telepathy, Teleportation, Precognition and Metapsionics.


  
Possibly Useful Junk
Fonts are from Sci-Fied Font Download
Font is Scifi2k2
Colour is 3E91D2
Shadow Teal L on title and S on Date and location

 
Last edited:

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#58




 

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#59
 

Applo

I'M WEIRD
DONATING MEMBER
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
#60