Impure Light

All right, Rox, you're in!
I think we should start soon, what do you all think? Shade can join in later, m'kay?
 
Haha, that's good. Actually, I might start the thread now.
 
You mentioned this last night. Do you have room for another Possessor?
 
Hm... Sure! I think that'll be fine, actually.
 
Name: Eli Croce
Age: 20
Rank: Tinker
Tech Type: Possession

Weapon: Eli's right arm is false, including the shoulder joint. It is a piece of ancient technology that he managed to get to fuse to him. The arm has incredible strength and is amazingly durable--it will assuredly outlast Eli, in fact. It is part Clockwork, taking some of the necessary energy from his own natural heat and motions, but mostly runs on Energy. In addition to the great lifting, crushing, and blocking capacity of the arm, he can use the palm to shoot grape-sized orbs of radiant, intensely hot energy, one per every 20 seconds or the apparatus will begin to overheat. The arm only moves at slightly than greater human speed (perhaps due to Eli's human neurology) and, unfortunately, could be torn free from Eli if he tries to lift, pull, catch, or otherwise exceed the weight-bearing capacity of its connections to his flesh. That would be a little tragic for him... And probably kill him. While he can't feel anything that happens directly to this prosthetic arm, he WILL feel pain from the over-extended bones, muscle, and other connective tissues. The metal also conducts heat as well, so there is always a risk of overheating and burning his own body.

Physical Appearance: At roughly 6', Eli is not a man built for small spaces. His skin is dusky, with a dry cast that looks sooty even when he's perfectly clean (which isn't too often--smelling slightly ripe is a good way to maintain personal space, which Eli has learned from experience). He has messy, wild dark hair, kept hacked short now and then with a handy dagger, and near-black eyes deeply set. Unfortunately, he has a poorly refined sense of fashion and may often go about looking as though he fumbled through a closet in the dark. Eli is long-limbed, almost lanky except for the bulk which he gains easily due to his heritage. He has a surprisingly refined face despite being rather large overall; high cheekbones and a somewhat refined, aquiline nose make him seem more like a literary noble savage than a trained mechanic.

Personality: Eli is a listener, not a talker. He's willing to lend a hand to someone so long as doing so doesn't put him much out of his way (or even better, nets him a profit or benefit of some kind). He isn't the type who has ever been engaged to a great cause, though his growing prowess with possession is slowly pushing him closer to the Technician cause. He was a wanderer, not usually spending too much of his time in any one locale--he'd rather experience new places and observe. He is more intelligent and resourceful than those who know him may necessarily credit him for... Which is both an annoyance and a bonus. Eli is rarely angered--he prefers to get even by getting ahead. He likes profit for the sake of putting forward to a nest egg when he's too old for the road and sacrifice much of the rest in order to stay in the good books of the spirit world. He usually appears slow and almost never raises his voice or speaks faster than a plodding pace. Those who know him are used to his very economical responses which often miss the point of the question.

Past/Backstory: Eli's family is a couple of poor farmers on the outskirts of a supposedly safe area of the Technician faction's territory. He was the middle child of seven and usually worked the fields with his parents and other siblings until he turned fifteen. By then, he was already quite a large young man--the locals joked that they bred 'em big in that region, and Eli was a prime example. The family fields were near an old, abandoned oil well site where some technology was rumored to yet be buried.

Out of the blue one day, after years and years of peace, a Paladin force arrived and pacified the local area by rounding up everyone they could catch and locking them in what served as the local meetinghouse. However, Eli's family were in the fields, and hid when the Paladins came, as did other folk who had been fortunate enough not to be in town or in their homes. Eli and his family fled toward the oil wells, hoping to get past them and into the forests, where hiding would be easier. However, Eli fell behind trying to help one of his siblings, and was caught by a Paladin. The Paladin thought Eli and his little sister were spies or scouts trying to escape to the Technicians--and to be fair, Eli would have been the one most likey sent to inform the Technicians' forces of the Paladin incursion--and was roughed up, separated from his seven year old sister, and thrown into a small building for the meantime. The girl was taken back to the meeting hall and deposited with the other townsfolk.

The Paladins took most of the day to start tearing down the old site to search for so-called "forbidden" technology; they obviously had a goal, as they had come with some excavation equipment and were targeting an area between where a bloodied Eli was held and several large, steel and concrete structures. Due to user error, the machine clanked into one of these structures and toppled it onto the building. A Paladin vaporized most of the structure, but Eli was knocked unconscious and pinned beneath it. By the time he awoke, the Paladin force had taken most of what they wanted and had either forgotten about him or presumed him dead... Or so he thought. He called out for help, but no one answered. He struggled free of the debris, but his arm was mangled and he was weak from shock and blood loss. He stumbled around the site, and a Paladin who had been merely observing the area until backup could come and clear up the excess debris. The Paladin decided Eli was a threat, and decided to eliminate him. The Paladin tried to strike him with the Holy Power, but Eli fell down into the furrow that had been blown out of the ground and onto something cold. The strike had taken the wounded arm and he was in intense pain. In a flash of light, cold, and agony, a strange idea came to him and he rolled onto the severed portion as it emptied his blood, then he lost consciousness.

When he awoke, he was in a clinic under the care of the Technicians. He had been transported while unconscious and treated. The rest of his family had managed to escape and alert the local force, who had dispatched enough responders to scare off the Paladins. Luckily, most of the townspeople the Paladins had gathered up were unharmed, and none were missing after a few days' worth of stragglers came back from their hideouts. Eli had bonded a piece of technology to his arm which was heretofore an extremely rare find, which netted the Technicians a nice cache of ancient machinery to add to their war materiel. The act of possessing the item which had become an "arm" also revealed Eli as a possessor of some strength, if completely untrained.

Currently, he is a two-year member of the force and in intense training in the ways of more complicated machinery and engineering as well as the theory and practice of possession. Part of his studies is to learn how his arm operates and what all of its capabilities and limits may be.
 
Sheet up tonight.
 
Um, yeah, there's room. We aren't too far in, so you'll be fine! Just post a sheet whenever you can.
 
Name: Frankie Arkonan
Age: 16
Rank: Tinker
Tech Type: Enchanter
Weapon: A lightweight spear that can fire it's bladed end like a harpon. The blade and extended chain are designed as such, so that they can also be manuvered in combat like a spiked whip or mace.

Personality: Wily and unpredicatable, obsessed with machinery and adventure. He rarely thinks before he acts and studies before he works. He is incredibly insecure about his family history and his abilities and will hide it under a false level of bravado and confidence. He's a wild card, but loyal to a fault and always willing to help a friend. He has an obvious naivety that comes with his age but also an unrivaled energy.

Physical Appearance:
A small and sprite fellow with short, very light brown hair and green eyes, light skinned but with a leanly muscular frame for his age and a nice clean scar running down his face. He tends to always have a smile on his face. Overall a good-looking and healthy teenage boy.

Past/Backstory: Frankie's father was a paladin who abandoned his duties and escaped with his family to the Tech oriented lands as a refugee. Having renounced his title in shame, and being so closely tied to the enemy, Frankie's reputation was tarnished by his families. He received little respect from his peers and was the subject of constant harassment, leading Frankie's father to teach him how to fight. This only led to more problems and Frankie was constantly in trouble with the authorities and his school. However, one thing he didn't faulter in was his skills in machinery. Regardless of his personal problems, Frankie excelled as a technician. This also led to problems with his family, who although they left the order of the Paladins, still held ties to the old culture and resented Frankie's acceptance of the new one. Even still, Frankie has pushed forward and continues to work and better himself as a Tech, despite overtime becoming a boy without a country.
 
Mkay, you're accepted! Once we start North Wall, you can join in as one of the other Techs.
 
@_@ Moving in took tiiiiime.

Apologies. Can I get a recap on what's occurring?
 
Hehe, no problem, and moving can be annoying...

Well, as of now, several characters have been assigned to North Wall, because a battle against four legions of Paladins will ensue the next day. It's sort of the meeting thing, ya know.
 
Name: Maurice (Mory) Weathers

Age: 65...or was that 36? 72? 4?

Rank: I served proudly as Fifth captain, order of the Crimson Duck in the third division Of Lord Villian's Voracious Vagabonds (No rank...unless you count muttering old coot a rank)

Tech Type: I recognize enchanting possessions

Weapon: Mory uses his hands or a metal pole...although hands more as an outstretched palm for coin and the staff to get around step by wobbly, wheezing step.

Personality: Barmy, in a word, is the most apt description of the old man. No one knows when he wandered into town but most hope he'll wander off again soon...or rather drop dead of age. Panhandling, long winded, and scarcely logical...the opinion of wherever he goes seems to be universally that of pity, disdain, or amusement. For those who ever sought to have a conversation with the man and willingly sat through his mutterings, Mory proves to be surprisingly intelligent and even coherent. It begs the question of how much of his behavior is an act and how much of it is a product of too much sun and decay. For all his begging, Mory secretly distributes most of it to those poorer and less noticed than he...

Physical Appearance: Wizened lines crack the tanned face of the elderly man, his height barely above five and a half feet. Of course nearly his entire body is bent over as though the weight of years is a physical presence on his back. To most, Mory's physical appearance is indistinguishable from any other old man. Of course Mory always wears oversized and tattered clothing, drawing attention away to whatever shape his body is in beneath. Long scraggly white hair immerses his face in both beard and length to the middle of his back from head. Always carrying the scratched and battered metal pole he uses to lean upon, it is one of the few items he has that the old man is never seen without.

Past/Backstory: Born third in a family of swallows it took ten years to figure out he couldn't fly. His father would scarcely look at him and his mother cried birdy tears every fortnight with his ten brothers and sisters. It was even more heart breaking when his diet of worms proved too little and he ate two sisters who strayed too close. Appalled, he was brought before the fairy court and sentenced to never speak of being a bird again. Of course, what was just said could be anybody...not necessarily Mory...so don't tell the toadstools and ole Mory can keep living in his nonbird body. After packing up his straws and kissing goodbye to his mother bird, ole Mory set out on his life long dream to be God of the Badlands. A difficult task, the scorpions proved hardest in convincing. They seemed to think that a human could never be God of anything...and that Mory was a disgraceful human not to wear shoes. After all, scorpions love living in shoes and without them, Mory hadn't even brought an offering. Surprised to be a human, the young man decided to return home to ask his mother how she could have possibly hatched a human...and to break news of her infidelity to his father.

Unfortunately there never were birds. In fact, this entire story is a load of featherstuff.

The only truth about Mory is that there is never truth about Mory. His stories grow more ridiculous as he tells them and without an identifiable homeland or past...most write him off as just a raving lunatic. Luckily he seems far too weak and addled to prove a threat and so people tolerate him...amused by his antics at times or using his condition as a horrifying warning for children to eat well and grow strong.

((Real history and whatnot will be sent to Moonlit Blade soon))
 
All right, it's all good. I'll come up with some way to stick you into the plot, which shouldn't be too hard, since we're only just starting.
 
*Shakes his crazy old guy in everyone's collective faces* ACKNOWLEDGE MEEEE

Or at least attack the templars...we're all floating in stasis o.o
 
Heh, I'm waiting for a couple posts before I continue, though.... Or I may just continue.... Death to the Paladins, then?
 
That's... what a Paladin would say, Quell. Haha.
 
Death to the...shiny armor people?